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CHRISTIAN    IN    VIEW   OF   THE   CROSS. 


EWJC.- 

PSYCH. 
UBMfiY 


SUPERFINE   EDITION. 


THE 


PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS, 


FROM 


THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  GOME. 


BY 


John  Bunyan. 

WITH  EXPLANATORY  NOTES  BY 

THE  REV.  ROBERT  MAGUIRE,  D.D. 

TOGETHER  WITH  A 

COMPLETE  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHN  BUNYAN;  OR,  GOD'S 
ABOUNDING  GRACE  TOWARD  THE  GREATEST  OF  SINNERS. 

Written  by  himself. 

Illustrated  with    130   Beautiful  Engravings   by  F.  Barnard^ 
H.  C  Selous,  Esq.^  M.  Paolo  Priolo  and  others. 

TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED 

THE   LITTLE   PILGRIM 

A  POEM. 


EMBELLISHED     WITH     SIXTEEN     SUPERBLY     TINTED     PISTES. 


Gonfertf/^. 


PART  I. 

Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author     . 


The  Author's  Apology  for  his  Book  . 

CHAPTER  I. 
The  Den  and  the  Dreamer  .... 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Slough  of  Despond     .... 

CHAPTER  III. 
Worldly-wiseman        ..... 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Wicket-gate 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Interpreter's  House      .... 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Cross  and  the  Contrast 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Hill  Difficulty 

CHAPTER  VIII, 
The  Palace  Beautiful  ..... 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Apollyon . 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death   . 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Christian  and  Faithful  .... 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Talkative     ....... 

CHAPTER  XIII 
Vanity  Fair  ...... 

CHAPTER  XIV 
Christian  and  Hopeful         .... 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Doubting  Castle  and  Giant  Despair     . 

CHAPTER  XVI 
The  Delectable  Mountains  .... 

(5) 


EDUC- 
PSYCH. 
LIBRARY 


12 
25 

33 
42 

49 
62 

^7 
81 

87 

93 
III 

118 
125 

137 

151 
167 

133 

196 


649 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Enchanted  Ground,  and  the  Descent  thereto         ,         ,         , 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Ignorance ..,.., 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Land  of  Beulah — ^The  Fords  of  the  River — At  Home 

PART  II. 

The  Author's  Way  of  sending  forth  his  Second  Part  of  the  Pilgrim 

CHAPTER  I. 
Christiana 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Wicket-gate  ...... 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Interpreter's  House      ..... 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Cross  and  the  Consequences 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Palace  Beautiful  ...... 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Valley  of  Humiliation  .... 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Mr.  Honest  and  Mr.  Fearing       .... 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Guests  of  Gaius   ...... 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Vanity  Fair  and  Mr.  Mnason's  House 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Delectable  Mountains  and  the  Shepherds     . 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Mr.  Valiant-for-truth 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Enchanted  Ground       ..... 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Pilgrims  at  Home         ..... 


PART  III. 

Life  of  John  Bunyan,  Written  by  Himself  . 


Page 
202 

229 

242 

257 
265 
279 

295 
308 
322 

344 
356 
372 
391 
401 

413 
422 

434 

* 

447 


l9i/i)f  of  Jffu^fraiiorti^. 


PART  I. 

Paab 

Steel  Plate  Portrait  of  the  Author 

Behold  !  Three  Shining  Ones  come  to  Him 32 

Christian  Reading  his  Book         ........  34 

Evangelist  directs  Christian  to  the  Wicket-gate  .         ,         .         .         ;  35 

Christian  setting  out  from  the  City  of  Destruction      ....  36 

Obstinate  goes  back  to  the  City  of  Destruction  .....  40 

Christian  at  Prayer 41 

Help  draws  Christian  out  of  the  Slough  of  Despond           ...  45 

Christian  and  Worldly-wiseman            .......  50 

Christian  beneath  Mount  Sinai    ........  53 

Christian  at  the  Wicket-gate         ........  57 

Goodwill  shows  Christian  the  Way 59 

Hypocrisy   ............  6l 

The  Interpreter  shows  Christian  the  Room  full  of  Dust      ...  65 

Formalist 66 

Christian  is  shown  the  Parable  of  Passion  and  Patience       ...  69 

The  Interpreter  shows  Christian  the  Fire  burning  against  the  Wall     .  73 

Christian  in  View  of  the  Cross  ........  "^y 

Formalist  and  Hypocrisy  coming  into  the  Way  over  the  Wall    .         .  82 

Christian  meets  Timorous  and  Mistrust       ......  89 

Christian  passes  the  Lions 94 

Christian  is  questioned  by  Discretion 97 

Christian  enters  the  Palace  Beautiful  . lOl 

Christian  tells  Charity  and  her  Sisters  about  his  Family      .         .         .  105 

Christian  is  armed  by  Prudence,  Discretion,  Piety  and  Charity    .         .  109 

Christian's  Combat  with  Apollyon 113 

Day  breaks  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death     .        .        .        .  121 

Discontent 124 

Faithful  comes  to  the  Help  of  Christian 128 

Faithful's  Struggle  with  Adam  the  First 1 33 


8 


List  of  Illustrations. 


Faithful  resists  Shame  ..... 

Talkative  of  Prating  Row  ...... 

Faithful  converses  with  Talkative         .... 

Evangelist  gives  good  Counsel  to  Christian  and  Faithful 
Christian  and  Faithful  enter  the  Town  of  Vanity 
Christian  and  Faithful  pass  through  Vanity  Fair 
Christian  and  Faithful  put  in  Irons 
Faithful  suffers  Death  at  Vanity  Fair  . 
Superstition         ..... 

Hopeful  joins  Company  with  Christian 
Mr.  Money-love's  Lesson  in  Hypocrisy 
Demas  tempts  Christian  and  Hopeful 
The  Pillar  of  Salt        .... 

The  River  of  the  Water  of  Life  . 

Christian  and  Hopeful  in  the  Castle  of  Giant  Despair 

Christian  and  Hopeful  escape  from  Doubting  Castle  . 

The  Hill  Error 

Ignorance    ........ 

Faint-heart,  Mistrust  and  Guilt  rob  Little-faith    . 
Christian  and  Hopeful  are  led  astray  by  the  Flatterer 
Christian  and  Hopeful  delivered  from  the  Net     . 
Christian  and  Hopeful  meet  with  Atheist    . 
Hopeful  tells  Christian  his  Experience 
Christian  instructs  Ignorance       ..... 

Ignorance  steps  behind        .....; 

Christian  and  Hopeful  enter  the  Land  of  Beulah 
Christian  and  Hopeful  meet  Two  Men  of  the  Land  of  Beulah 
Christian  and  Hopeful  cross  the  River 
The  Gates  are  opened 


Page 

139 
144 

148 

152 

156 

160 

164 

166 

168 

172 

176 

180 

184 

188 

193 
200 

201 

204 

208 

213 

217 

224 

228 

232 

239 
244 

247 

251 


PART  II. 


Christiana's  Repentance 
Christiana  prepares  to  depart 
Christiana  and  Family  set  out     . 
They  pass  the  Slough  of  Despond 
Mercy  at  the  Wicket- gate   . 
The  Boys  eat  of  the  Fruit  . 


267 
271 

275 
280 
284 
288 


List  of  illustrations. 

Christiana  and  Mercy  are  delivered  from  the  two  Ill-favored  Ones 
The  Interpreter's  Garden     ...... 

Great-heart  becomes  the  Pilgrim's  Guide     . 
The  Fate  of  Simple,  Sloth  and  Presumption 
The  Pilgrims  drink  of  the  Spring        .... 

The  Place  where  Mistrust  and  Timorous  were  Punished 
The  Welcome  at  the  Palace  Beautiful  .... 

Prudence  catechises  the  Boys 
Mr.  Brisk  and  Mercy  . 
Matthew  and  Prudence 
Jacob's  Ladder    .... 

The  Pillar  in  the  Valley  of  Humility 

Great-heart  kills  Giant  Maul 

Fearing  at  the  Interpreter's  Door 

Mr.  Fearing  in  the  Valley  of  Humiliation    . 

Honest  converses  about  one  Self-will 

Gains  receives  the  Pilgrims  ..... 

The  Pilgrims'  Supper  .         .         ,         .         .         . 

Giant  Slay-good  and  Feeble-mind        .... 

The  Marriage  of  Matthew  and  Mercy 

The  Pilgrims  come  within  Sight  of  Vanity  Fair 

Honest  and  Contrite  converse      ..... 

The  Pilgrims  at  the  Place  where  Faithful  perished 
Great-heart  and  the  Sons  of  Christiana  destroy  Doubting 
The  Shepherds  adorn  the  Pilgrims       .... 

Valiant-for-truth  beset  by  Thieves       .... 

Valiant  resists  the  Entreaties  of  his  Father  and  Mother 
The  Wearisome  Way  ...... 

Mr.  Great-heart  ........ 

Turn-away  will  not  listen  to  Evangelist 

Mr.  Valiant-for-truth  ...... 

Standfast  resists  Temptation         ..... 

The  Pilgrims  rest  in  the  Land  of  Beulah     . 

The  Farewell 


Castle 


d 

Page 
292 
299 
306 

316 

320 
324 

333 
337 
341 

345 

353 
361 

365 
369 
374 
378 
383 
387 
392 
395 
399 
403 
410 

415 
419 

423 

424 

426 

428 

431 

435 
441 


PART  III. 


John  Bunyan 
Banyan's  Birthplace 


446 
449 


10 


List  of  hmstrationS. 


Bukyan  Listening  to  the  Women  of  Bedford 
Bunyan  Studying  the  Writings  of  Luther 
Bunyan  Preaching  in  the  Open  Air     . 

Bedford  Jail 

Bunyan  in  Prison         .... 
Bunyan's  Family  visiting  him  in  Prison 
Bunyan  Arrested  while  Preaching 
Bunyan  on  his  Last  Errand  of  Mercy 
Bunyan's  Tomb  in  Bunhill  Field's  Cemetery 


pAGfe 

457 
481 

520 

522 

524 

527 

534 
542 

543 


iJufP-page   (^oforeil  Gngra^^ing^. 


Christian  at  the  Cross. 

The  Three  Shining  Ones. 

Faithful  helps  Christian. 

The  Porter  calls  Discretion  to  the  Door  of  the  Palace. 

Talkative. 

Atheist. 

The  Keeper  at  the  Gate  finds  Mercy  fainting  outside. 

The  King's  Trumpeter. 

Mr.  Great-heart. 

Mr.  Brisk. 

Old  Honest. 

The  Man  Could  Look  no  Way  but  downwards." 

Mr.  Fearing  at  the  Gate. 

Feeble-Mind  Welcomes  Ready-to-halt. 

Standfast  and  Madam  Bubble. 

Turn-away  will  not  listen  to  Evangelist. 


^ 


^ntroc:|uGtorv   Rofiee   o^  tfie  ©Kuifior. 


HE  Pilgrim's  Progress  is,  without  question,  of  all  unin- 
spired volumes,  the  most  extraordinary  book  in  the  Eng- 
lish language.  Regard  being  had  to  the  condition  of  its 
author,  and  the  circumstances  connected  with  its  produc- 
tion, to  its  widespread  popularity,  and  its  suitableness  for  readers  of 
every  class,  there  is  none  to  compare  with  it.  It  is  so  well  known, 
that  any  information  concerning  either  it  or  its  author  seems  super- 
fluous ;  and  our  ingenuity  is  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  write  an  intro- 
duction for  a  book  for  which,  above  all  others,  no  introduction  is 
required. 

We  shall  probably  find  few  readers  who  are  not  already  ac- 
quainted with  the  leading  facts  of  Bunyan's  life,  and  to  whom  a  re- 
cord of  them  would  not  appear  like  the  rehearsal  of  an  old  story.  It 
may  suffice,  therefore,  if  we  present,  in  few  words,  such  a  summary 
as  will  refresh  the  memory,  dwelling  only  on  those  which  are  fitted  to 
shed  a  little  light  on  his  immortal  production. 

Born  at  Elstow  in  Bedfordshire,  in  1628,  of  parents  who  be- 
longed to  the  humbler  walks  of  life,  he  received  little  early  education 
worthy  of  the  name,  but  grew  up  in  the  ignorance  which  was  then 
and  till  quite  recently  common  to  his  class.  At  an  early  age  he 
learned  the  trade  of  tinker,  and  by  that  occupation  earned  his  liveli- 
hood for  a  few  years.  Up  to  the  time  of  his  first  marriage  he  lived, 
if  not  a  desperately  profligate,  yet  a  thoroughly  godless  and  openly 
wicked  life.  And  though  the  character  and  conversation  of  his  wife 
exerted  a  restraining  influence,  and  awoke  in  him  some  desire  for 
reformation,  no  real,  and  but  little  apparent,  change  took  place  until 
some  time  afterwards,  when  he  became  the  subject  of  converting 
grace.     The  deep  experiences  through  which  he  had  passed  in  con- 

(11) 


12  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author. 

nection  with  this  change,  combined  with  his  natural  gifts,  quaHfied  him 
for  profitably  addressing  others ;  and  he  very  soon  began,  in  an  ir- 
regular way  at  first,  to  exercise  the  ministry,  which  ultimately  became 
his  sole  occupation,  and  in  which  he  obtained  to  a  proficiency  unsur- 
passed by  any  preacher  in  his  time.  His  preaching  and  consequent 
absence  from  the  parish  church  attracted  the  notice  of  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal authorities  of  the  neighborhood,  at  whose  instigation  he  was  thrown 
into  prison  for  twelve  years,  where  he  tagged  laces  to  support  his 
wife  and  blind  child,  and  conceived  and  wrote  the  wonderful  allegory 
by  which  he  has  ranked  himself  for  ever  among  the  peers  of  the  intel- 
lectual world,  and  secured  for  himself  an  ever-widening  and  undying 
fame.  After  his  release  he  preached  with  great  acceptance  and  use- 
fulness, statedly  at  Bedford,  occasionally  In  London  and  elsewhere, 
and  composed  and  published  various  other  works  of  great  practical 
usefulness,  some  of  which  would  no  doubt  have  attained  to  a  wide 
popularity  had  they  not  been  eclipsed  by  his  greatest  production.  He 
diligently  prosecuted  his  labors  until  he  was  sixty  years  of  age, 
when  a  severe  cold  caught  in  the  discharge  of  a  ministerial  duty — a 
journey  which  he  took  for  the  purpose  of  reconciling  a  father  and 
son  who  had  quarrelled — abruptly  terminated  his  life. 

In  the  circumstances  we  have  thus  briefly  narrated — especially 
in  his  imprisonment — some  writers  see  the  discipline  and  training 
which  were  necessary  to  fit  him  for  writing  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress." 
But  though  we  cannot  question  that  whatsoever  God  did  for  him  and 
whatsoever  men  were  permitted  to  do,  had  some  effect  in  fitting  him 
for  whatever  work  he  was  destined  to  perform,  it  seems  to  us  that  such 
a  discovery  is  but  one  of  numerous  instances  in  which  men  are  wise 
after  the  event,  and  that  Bunyan's  great  work  is  not  to  be  accounted 
for  except  by  a  profounder  philosophy  than  such  writers  bring  to  the 
task.  Few  beforehand  would  have  ventured  to  predict,  from  anything 
in  the  antecedents  of  the  man  Bunyan,  that  he  would  be  able  to  pro- 
duce such  a  book,  or  that  anything  in  his  circumstances  and  upbringing 
and  parentage  would  produce  such  a  man.  He  is  a  great  creation, 
no  more  to  be  accounted  for  in  such  a  manner  than  is  the  creation 


*  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author.  i3 

of  a  world.  Antecedents  conduce  to,  but  do  not  account  for,  it. 
He  is  a  phenomenon  only  to  be  understood  on  the  principle  that 
God,  by  a  process  which  we  cannot  trace,  and  sometimes  by  means 
which  appear  to  us  unsuitable,  raises  up  great  men  for  the  perform- 
ance of  great  works.  Not  only  does  he  make  the  foolish  things  of 
the  world  to  confound  the  wise,  and  the  weak  to  confound  the  mighty, 
but  gives  us  to  find  both  wisdom  and  strength  where  such  qualities 
are  least  likely  to  exist. 

It  is  a  fact  significant  of  the  nature  of  the  times  that  Christian 
England,  which  ought  to  have  been  proud  to  rank  him  among  her 
favored  sons,  had  no  better  treatment  for  this  man  than  the  most  re- 
lentless persecution,  no  better  home  for  twelve  years  than  a  damp 
cell  in  the  jail  which  stood  on  the  bridge  over  the  Ouse  at  Bedford. 
His  crime,  as  we  have  intimated,  was  that  of  absenting  himself  from 
the  Established  Church,  and  holding  meetings  where  he  preached 
the  gospel,  and  conducted  worship  in  a  manner  which  appeared  to 
him  more  in  accordance  than  the  established  service  with  New  Testa- 
ment principles — one  of  the  worst  crimes,  in  the  estimation  of  the 
authorities,  of  which  a  man  could  be  guilty.  On  the  warrant  of  a 
justice  he  was  apprehended  at  a  meeting  in  Sansell,  and,  no  bail 
oeing  found,  was  thrown  into  prison  to  await  his  trial,  which  took 
place  seven  weeks  afterwards.  His  indictment  set  forth  that  "John 
Bunyan  of  the  town  of  Bedford,  laborer,  hath  devilishly  and  per- 
niciously abstained  from  coming  to  church  to  hear  Divine  service, 
and  is  a  common  upholder  of  several  unlawful  meetings  and  con- 
venticles, to  the  great  disturbance  and  distraction  of  the  good  sub- 
jects of  this  kingdom,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  our  sovereign  lord 
the  king."  On  this  indictment,  without  any  examination  of  witnesses^ 
he  was  found  guilty.  Justice  Keeling,  in  a  savage  tone  strangely 
unbecoming  in  a  judge  passing  sentence,  said:  "  Hear  your  judg- 
ment ;  you  must  be  had  back  to  prison,  and  there  lie  for  three  months 
following.  And  at  three  months'  end,  if  you  do  not  submit  to  go  to 
church  to  hear  Divine  service,  and  leave  your  preaching,  you  must 
be  banished  the  realm  ;  or  be  found  to  come  back  again  without 


14  hitroductoi-y  Notice  of  the  Author. 

special  licence  from  the  king,  you  must  stretch  by  the  neck  for  it,  I 
tell  you  plainly.     Jailer,  take  him  away." 

Bunyan's  reply  was  as  worthy  of  his  Christian  character  as  the 
judge's  manner  was  unworthy  of  his  exalted  office.  All  that  he 
had  to  say  in  answer  to  such  brutal  browbeating  was,  "  If  I  was  out 
of  prison  to-day,  I  would  preach  again  to-morrow,  by  the  help  of 
God !  "  Such  a  man  was  evidently  not  to  be  frightened  either  by 
frowns  or  by  threats  ;  so  they  had  him  back  to  prison,  of  which  he 
had  already  tasted  the  sweets.  But  not  all  the  horrors  of  prison, 
not  the  pain  of  separation  from  his  wife  and  four  children,  could 
move  his  dauntless  soul.  He  felt  that  separation  most  keenly — no 
man  could  have  felt  it  more.  Especially  was  he  solicitous  about  his 
blind  daughter,  to  whom  he  was  all  the  more  tenderly  attached  because 
of  her  helplessness.  "Poor  child,  thought  I ;  what  sorrow  art  thou 
like  to  have  for  thy  portion  in  this  world  !  Thou  must  be  beaten, 
must  beg,  suffer  hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  a  thousand  calamities, 
though  I  cannot  now  endure  the  wind  should  blow  upon  thee  !  Oh, 
the  hardships  I  thought  my  blind  one  might  go  under  would  break 
my  heart  in  pieces."  Still  he  did  not  falter,  for  he  could  commit  her  as 
well  as  himself  to  God  ;  and  God's  peace  was  with  him.  "  Verily,  as  I 
was  going  forth  out  of  the  doors,  I  had  much  ado  to  forbear  saying 
to  them  that  I  carried  the  peace  of  God  along  with  me  ;  and  blessed 
be  the  Lord,  I  went  away  to  prison  with  God's  comfort  in  my  poor 
soul!" 

His  case  seems  to  have  given  some  trouble  to  the  justices. 
He  was  had  up  before  them  repeatedly,  and  always  remanded.  They 
were  either  unwilling  or  afraid  to  carry  out  Justice  Reeling's  threat 
of  banishment.  And  as  their  prisoner  would  not  promise  to  change 
his  course,  they  kept  him  where  he  was.  His  friends  interceded  for 
him.  His  wife,  who  was  of  a  kindred  spirit  with  himself,  came  to 
London  with  a  petition  for  his  release,  and  had  it  presented  to  the 
House  of  Lords.  Although  "  a  delicate  young  woman  of  retiring 
habits,"  she  appeared  before  the  judges  and  pleaded  his  cause  "  in 
language  worthy   of  the    most    talented    counsel."      But  all    their 


Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author.  15 

efforts  were  in  vain.  The  one  condition  on  which  his  release  could 
be  granted  was  the  condition  with  which  the  prisoner  would  not 
comply.  "Will  your  husband  leave  preaching?  "  said  Judge  Twis- 
den  to  his  wife  ;  *'  if  he  will  do  so,  then  send  for  him."  "  My  Lord," 
she  replied,  "he  dares  not  leave  preaching,  so  long  as  he  can 
speak."  "  My  principles,"  says  Bunyan  on  another  occasion,  "are 
such  as  lead  me  to  a  denial  to  communicate  in  the  things  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ  with  ungodly  and  open  profane;  neither  can  i, 
in  or  by  the  superstitious  inventions  of  this  world,  consent  that  my 
soul  should  be  governed  in  any  of  my  approaches  to  God,  because 
commanded  to  the  contrary,  and  commended  for  so  refusing. 
Wherefore,  excepting  this  one  thing,  for  which  I  ought  not  to  be  re- 
buked, I  shall,  I  trust,  in  despite  of  slander  and  falsehood,  discover 
myself  as  a  peaceable  and  obedient  subject.  But  if  nothing  will  do 
unless  I  make  my  conscience  a  continual  butchery  and  slaughter 
shop — unless,  putting  out  mine  own  eyes,  I  commit  me  to  the  blind 
to  lead  me  (as  I  doubt  is  desired  by  some) — I  have  determined,  the 
Almighty  God  being  my  help  and  shield,  yet  to  suffer,  and  if  frail 
life  shall  continue  so  long,  even  till  the  moss  shall  grow  on  my  eye- 
brows, rather  than  violate  my  faith  and  principles." 

He  lay  in  prison  for  more  than  twelve  years.  Twelve  years ! 
How  easy  to  write  the  words  ;  how  difficult  to  grasp  all  that  they 
mean  !  The  fifth  part  of  his  life  at  the  season  when  life  was  in  its  prime 
— when  his  appreciation  of  nature  was  keenest — when  free  exercise 
would  have  proved  the  greatest  luxury  to  a  stalwart  frame  like  his 
— when  he  would  have  entered  with  the  greatest  zest  into  home  en- 
joyments— when  his  physical  system  was  full  of  bounding  life  and 
capable  of  acting  with  the  greatest  vigor — the  fifth  part  of  his  life 
spent  within  the  limits  of  a  dungeon — the  little  cell  which  he  aptly 
calls  his  den  !  What  a  testimony  to  the  heroic  endurance  of  the 
man  !  What  a  testimony  to  his  country's  disgrace  !  It  is  sad  to 
think  that  England,  with  her  Christian  constitution,  had  no  better 
treatment  than  this  for  one  of  her  noblest  sons,  whose  worth,  blinded 
as  she  was  by  flunkeyisms  and  debaucheries  in  high  places,  shc^ 
was  unable  to  recog-nize. 


16  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author. 

To  Bunyan  it  mattered  little  what  they  did.  Happier  far  was 
he  in  prison  than  the  clergyman  in  his  living,  or  the  bishop  in  his 
palace,  or  the  king  on  his  throne.  Yea,  it  may  be  questioned  if  in 
all  England  there  was  a  man  so  happy  or  so  much  to  be  envied  as 
that  prisoner  on  Bedford  bridge.  The  "  God's  peace  " — "  God's 
comfort" — of  which  he  speaks  as  dwelling  in  his  "poor  soul,"  is  not 
dependent  on  place  or  circumstances,  cannot  be  disturbed  by  the 
treatment  he  receives.  He  who  hath  it  can  defy  the  persecutor's 
rage.  Do  to  him  what  you  will — strip  him  of  his  possessions  and 
friends — drive  him  into  exile — make  him  a  homeless  wanderer — he 
is  happier  in  his  penury  and  homelessness  than  others  in  the 
abundance  of  their  wealth  and  comfort.  The  stream  by  whose  side 
he  strays  lulls  him  with  its  melody.  The  wild-flower  blooming  at 
his  feet  with  its  bewitching  beauty  hath  for  him  a  quiet  but  charm- 
ing tale  of  one  for  whose  care  nothing  is  too  minute.  The  mountains 
tower  around  in  testimony  of  his  Father's  power  and  faithfulness; 
and  the  stars  overhead  are  so  many  provinces  in  his  Father's 
boundless  domain — yea,  all  nature  doth  minister  to  his  pleasure,  be- 
cause all  outward  things  do  "  chime  harmoniously  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  harmonious  soul."  Or  if,  by  prison  walls,  as  in  Bun- 
yan's  case,  he  be  shut  out  from  nature's  beauty — from  daylight  and 
fragrant  air — still  he  has  left  to  him  God  and  himself.  The  soul's 
freedom  is  unimpaired.  It  can  soon  soar  above  all  restraint  and 
enjoy  Divine  fellowship.  No  prison  walls  are  so  thick  that  prayer 
cannot  pierce  them.  No  dungeon  gloom  so  dark  that  it  may  not  be 
radiated  with  celestial  lieht. 


t> 


"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 
That  for  a  hermitage. 

"  For  though  men  keep  my  outward  man 
Within  their  locks  and  bars, 
Yet  by  the  faith  of  Christ  I  can 
Mount  higher  than  the  stars." 


Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author.  17 

These  were  no  meaningless  sounds  to  him — no  poetical  expres- 
sion of  the  feelings  which  he  supposed  might  be  experienced — no 
rhapsodical  or  exaggerated  description  of  what  he  actually  felt. 
Poetry  apart,  he  elsewhere  tells  us  of  the  glorious  visions  with 
which  he  was  favored  there.  "  Oh  !  the  Mount  Zion,  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  God  the  judge 
of  all ;  Jesus  the  mediator,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect! 
I  have  seen  here  what  I  never  can  express.  I  have  felt  the  truth  of 
that  Scripture,  'Whom  having  not  seen,  ye  love  ;  in  Whom,  though 
now  ye  see  Him  not,  yet  believing,  ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory.'  "  Most  of  the  day  was  spent  in  "tagging  laces," 
with  his  blind  girl  by  his  side — an  employment  that  he  learned  in 
prison,  that  thereby  he  might  help  to  support  his  family.  But  when 
evening  came,  and  the  child  was  dismissed  to  her  home  with  a  part- 
ing benediction,  his  soul,  free  to  soar  where  it  listed,  saw  those 
glorious  visions,  and  indulged  in  those  pious  meditations  which  are 
embodied  in  his  immortal  work.  He  had  but  to  close  his  eyes,  and 
he  was  no  more  the  prisoner,  but  the  pilgrim  whose  progress  he  so 
graphically  describes.  Bedford  jail  fades  away,  and  his  unfettered 
soul  stands  on  some  mount  of  vision,  where,  from  its  commence- 
ment to  its  close,  the  course  of  his  pilgrim  lies  open  to  his  view. 
There  he  sees  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  remembers  how  he  left 
it  with  the  burden  on  his  back — the  Slough  of  Despond,  and  the 
overhanging  hill  near  the  house  of  Mr.  Legality,  with  its  deep  rifts 
and  flashing^  fires.  He  recalls  his  entrance  at  the  Wicket-gfate — his 
visit  to  the  Interpreter's  house — his  rapture  when,  standing  at  the 
foot  of  the  Cross  and  gazing  on  the  Crucified,  his  burden  fell  from 
his  shoulders,  and  he  was  free.  Again  he  is  entertained  at  the 
Palace  Beautiful,  finds  there  refreshment  and  repose,  and  at  break 
of  day  wakes  up  singing  in  the  chamber  whose  name  is  Peace,  Or 
he  wanders  among  the  Delectable  Mountains  with  the  shepherds  for 
his  companions,  and  from  the  hilJ  Clear,  looking  through  the  glass 
of  faith,  discerns  in  the  distance  the  pearly  gates,  and  golden  turrets 
and  jasper  walls,  that  surround  the  City  of  the  Blest.     Or  he  dwells 

2 


18  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author. 

in  the  land  of  Beulah,  where,  not  in  imagination  only,  but  in  reality, 
his  soul  summers  even  now,  ripening  for  the  heaven  which  is  so 
near  that  already  he  inhales  its  fragrance,  and  walks  in  its  light,  and 
holds  converse  with  the  shining  ones — where  the  sun  shineth  night 
and  day,  and  the  birds  sing  continually,  and  the  flowers  are  ever 
fresh  and  fair,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land.  Or, 
the  river  crossed,  he  climbs  the  hill  which  leads  up  to  the  gate  of 
the  City,  or  rather  glides  upward  ;  for  the  shining  ones  have  clasped 
his  hands,  and  the  burden  of  mortality  left  in  the  river  no  more 
clogs  the  movements  of  the  ascending  soul.  The  gates  open  at  his 
approach — the  trumpets  sound  in  honor  of  his  coming.  The  bells 
of  the  city  "  ring  again  for  joy."  "  Angels  meet  him  with  harp  and 
crown,  and  give  him  the  harp  to  praise  withal  and  the  crown  in  token 
of  honor."  And  the  hosts  of  the  glorified  standing  round  welcome 
him  with  acclamations  to  their  exalted  fellowship,  saying,  "Enter 
thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 

All  these  are  real  to  him — more  real  than  the  prison  walls  that 
surround  him,  or  his  prison  garb,  or  prison  fare.  These  are  but  the 
illusions  which  shall  vanish ;  those  the  realities  which  shall  endure. 
And,  being  so  vividly  presented  to  his  mind,  he  is  constrained  to 
imprint  them  on  his  page.  Rousing  himself  from  his  reverie,  but 
with  beaming  eye  and  radiant  countenance,  for  "  he  writes  as  if  joy 
did  make  him  write,"  he  flings  from  his  graphic  and  fluent  pen  those 
vivid,  brilliant  pictures,  over  which,  after  his  persecutors  have  per- 
ished, and  his  prison  walls  have  crumbled  into  dust,  and  the  painful 
circumstances  of  his  earthly  life  have  receded  into  the  dim  and  dis- 
tant past,  in  many  lands  and  throughout  all  generations,  in  the 
closet  and  the  chamber,  in  the  solitary  hut  and  the  crowded  city, 
young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  learned  and  illiterate,  shall  bend  with 
ever  fresh  delight. 

Without  question  Bunyan's  imprisonment  was  made  conducive 
for  the  furtherance  of  the  Gospel.  The  Providence  which  controls 
the  wrath  of  man,  and  makes  it  contribute  to  its  own  purposes,  so 
overruled  the   malice  of  his   persecutors  as  to  make   it  serve  the 


J  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author.  19 

cause  which  they  sought  to  destroy.  Not  only  may  we  see  the 
Divine  hand  in  the  fact  that  Bunyan's  imprisonment  afforded  him 
leisure  for  the  composition  of  those  works  which  have  made  his 
name  immortal,  but  an  overruling  Providence  is  specially  seen  in 
some  of  the  circumstances  which  facilitated  his  work.  Cruelties 
such  as  were  perpetrated  in  other  prisons  would  probably  have 
shortened  his  days,  or  at  least  have  rendered  writing  and  study 
impossible ;  but  in  the  jail  at  Bedford  where  he  was  confined, 
though  the  place  was  loathsome  in  the  extreme,  the  jailer  treated 
the  prisoners  with  such  humanity  that  he  incurred  the  displeasure  of 
the  justices.  Bunyan  was  allowed  to  visit  his  family  occasionally, 
and  it  was  on  one  of  his  visits  that  the  circumstance  occurred  which 
most  people  would  consider  peculiarly  providential.  A  neighboring 
priest  heard  of  his  absence  from  prison,  and  immediately  despatched 
a  messenger  that  he  might  bear  witness  against  the  jailer.  Mean- 
while Bunyan,  feeling  uneasy  at  home,  had  returned  to  prison  sooner 
than  was  intended,  so  that  when  the  messenger  demanded,  "  Are 
all  the  prisoners  safe?"  the  jailer  could  answer  "Yes."  "Is  John 
Bunyan  safe  ?  "  "  Yes."  Bunyan,  on  being  called,  appeared  ;  and^ 
said  the  jailer  afterwards,  "  You  may  go  out  when  you  will,  for  you 
know  much  better  when  to  return  than  I  can  tell  you."  Thus  were 
his  health  and  life  preserved,  and  the  man  who  was  forbidden  to 
speak  to  a  few  assembled  in  a  peasant's  cottage,  furnished  with 
facilities  for  writing  a  book  by  which  he  speaks  to  millions  in  every 
land,  and  through  all  succeeding  generations  ;  while  the  men  who 
sought  to  silence  him  are  forgotten.  So  do  the  enemies  of  the 
Gospel  frustrate  their  own  schemes.  So  does  the  right  live  on, 
em.erging  into  ever-increasing  splendor,  while  the  wrong  sinks  into 
merited  oblivion. 

The  acceptance  which  his  "Pilgrim's  Progress  "  has  met  with  is 
altogether  unparalleled.  During  the  Author's  lifetime  many  copies 
are  said  to  have  been  circulated  in  England — and  that  was  at  a  time 
when  books  and  readers  were  comparatively  scarce.  Several 
editions — some  of  them  got  up,  as  booksellers  would  say,  in  very 


20  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author. 

superior  style — were  published  in  North  America,  and  translations 
were  issued  in  French  and  Flemish,  Dutch,  Welsh,  Gaelic  and  Irish. 
Nor  does  time  show  any  abatement  of  its  popularity.  Among  all  the 
competitors  for  public  favor  which  have  since  issued  from  the  press, 
it  retains  its  pre-eminence.  There  is  scarcely  a  known  language  into 
which  it  has  not  been  rendered.  Wherever  English  is  spoken  it  is 
familiar  as  a  household  word.  Both  the  First  and  Second  Parts  may 
be  had  together  new,  and  neatly  printed,  for  one  penny,  showing  that 
notwithstanding  the  millions  in  circulation,  and  the  new  editions 
which  are  constantly  appearing,  publishers  can  still  reckon  on  a  sale 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  for  one  edition  alone.  It  appears  in  all 
forms,  and  is  read  by  all  classes.  Richly  illustrated  and  elegantly 
bound,  it  adorns  the  drawing-room  tables  of  the  wealthy.  Well 
thumbed  and  sometimes  tattered,  as  if  from  constant,  if  not  careless, 
usage,  it  lies  on  the  shelf  or  the  window-sill  of  the  poor.  Children 
are  entranced  with  the  interest  of  the  story ;  its  tranquil  or  gloomy 
scenes,its  pictures  of  danger  and  conflict,  of  triumph  and  despair.  Men 
too  illiterate  to  account  for  the  fascination  are  attracted  to  its  pages. 
And  learned  men,  who  have  litde  sympathy  with  its  religious  purpose, 
feel  the  spell  of  its  genius,  and  are  compelled  to  admire  it  for  the 
beauty  or  the  awfulness  of  its  creations,  its  vivid  embodiments,  its 
clear  insight  and  keen  satire,  its  terse  Saxon  style.  The  young 
Christian,  just  starting  on  his  course,  reads  it  for  guidance  and  en- 
couragement in  his  own  conflicts  and  perils  ;  and  the  aged  saint, 
lino-erino-for  a  while  on  the  river's  brink,  before  the  messeng-er  sum- 
mons  him  into  the  presence  of  the  King,  testifies  to  the  accuracy 
with  which  it  pictures  the  serene  and  mellowed  joys  of  the  land  of 
Beulah — the  celestial  air  which  the  pilgrim  breathes,  the  celestial 
fragrance  which  is  wafted  from  on  high,  the  celestial  visitants  with 
whom  beholds  converse  as  he  nears  his  journey's  end  ;  and  the  dull 
eye  brightens,  and  the  withered  countenance  glows  with  rapture,  as, 
by  the  pilgrim's  passage  of  the  river,  and  entrance  at  the  gates,  he  is 
led  to  anticipate  his  own.  It  is  wonderful  that  any  man  shou  -1.  have 
written  a  book  of  such  universal  and  enduring   popularity.     More 


uniroductory  Notice  of  the  Author.  2l 

wonderful  still  that  it  should  have  been  written  in  prison  by  an  unedu- 
cated tinker,  the  descendant  of  a  vagrant  tribe — written  spontane- 
ously and  unconsciously — not  as  an  effort,  but  as  a  relief  from  mental 
fulness — as  the  thoughts  came  crowding  up  in  all  their  freshness  in 
an  untrained  but  singularly  original  and  fertile  mind. 

With  all  its  popularity  and  excellence,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  book 
is  not  without  faults.  Its  theology,  scriptural  in  the  main,  is  colored  b\ 
his  own  experience.  The  long  and  painful  journey  which  Christian 
makes  with  his  burden  befoie  he  finds  relief  at  the  cross,  though  it 
accords  with  fact  often,  is  somewhat  at  variance  with  Scripture. 
The  Second  Part  shows  some  improvement  on  the  First  in  this  re- 
spect;  but  there,  too,  the  cross  is  placed  too  far  on  the  way.  It 
should  have  been  at  the  wicket-gate,  and  not  at  the  further  side 
of  the  Interpreter's  house  ;  for  there  is  really  no  true  progress 
heavenward  until  the  cross  is  seen.  As  an  allegory,  moreover,  it 
presents,  as  it  could  scarcely  fail,  some  obvious  inconsistencies. 
The  wicket-gate  is  the  proper  entrance  to  the  prilgrim's  course  ; 
and  yet  Hopeful  enters  it  not  through  the  wicket-gate,  but  at  Vanity 
Fair,  which  is  far  on  the  way.  Faithful,  again,  leaves  it  not  by  the 
river,  which  represents  death,  but  is  taken  up  in  a  chariot  of  fire. 
These  and  such  like  discrepancies  are  obvious  to  every  reader ;  and 
the  best  excuse  for  them  is  that  his  purpose  rendered  them  unavoid- 
able. It  was  not  possible  by  any  consistent  allegory  to  set  forth  so 
many  distinct  phases  of  spiritual  life. 

The  wonder  is  not  that  there  are  inconsistencies  in  the  allegory, 
but  that  these  are  so  few,  and  the  beauties  of  the  book  so  manifold. 
"  It  is  the  highest  miracle  of  genius,"  says  Macaulay,  "  that  things 
which  are  not  should  be  as  though  they  were,  that  the  imagination  of 
one  mind  should  become  the  personal  recollections  of  another.  And 
this  miracle  the  tinker  has  wrought.  There  is  no  ascent,  no  declivity, 
no  resting-place,  no  turnstile,  with  which  we  are  not  perfectly  ac- 
quainted." His  characters,  though  some  of  them  are  mere  embodi- 
ments of  abstract  qualities,  are  painted  with  equal  vividness.  They  are 
marked  with  individuality  as  much  as  if  they  were  real  personag^es 


22  Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author. 

who  had  sat  for  their  portraits.  There  is  no  danger  of  our  mistak- 
ing one  for  another  ;  and  such  is  the  impression  they  produce  on 
our  minds  that,  when  once  we  have  made  acquaintance  with  them, 
they  are  not  easily  forgotten.  Stern  as  he  is  in  his  treatment  of 
wrong,  and  especially  in  peeling  off  the  skin  from  sanctimonious 
villainy,  what  a  depth  of  tenderness  there  is  in  his  nature,  and  what 
a  keen  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  he  now  and  again  displays  ! 
When  he  writes  of  Christiana  in  the  Second  Part,  there  is  a  percep- 
tible softening  in  his  tone,  and  the  incidents  of  the  journey  are  suited 
to  the  delicacy  of  woman  and  the  tenderness  of  youth  ;  for  the 
writer  knew  well,  and  had  himself  imbibed,  the  spirit  of  Him 
who  "tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb" — "Who  gathers  the 
lambs  in  His  arms,  and  carries  them  in  His  bosom."  The  quiet 
beauty  of  some  of  his  scenes,  and  the  soft  light  which  falls  on  them, 
is  perfectly  charming,  and  all  the  more  noticeable  as  contrasted  with 
the  lurid  grandeur  of  others.  What  a  sweet  picture  is  that  Palact 
Beautiful,  with  its  waiting  damsels  and  its  chambers  of  peace — "  the 
country  birds  that,  in  the  spring-time,  sing  all  day  long  in  a  most 
curious  melodious  note,"  one  carolling,  as  Christiana  listens,  with 
words  much  like  these  : 

"  Through  all  my  life  Thy  favor  is 
So  frankly  showed  to  me, 
That  in  Thy  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be," 

And  another  responding — 

"  For  why  ?  The  Lord  our  God  is  good ; 
His  mercy  is  forever  sure  ; 
His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 

And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure."  t 

Not  less  lovely,  when  Christiana  passes  through,  is  the  Valley 
of  Humiliation,  green  and  fertile  and  "beautified  with  lilies,"  where 
"  our  Lord  formerly  had  his  country  house,  and  loved  to  walk  the 
meadows,  for  he  found  the  air  was  pleasant,"  where  "laboring  men 


Introductory  Notice  of  the  Author.  23 

have  good  estates,"  where  the   shepherd  boy  doth  sing  his  artless 
song,  giving  utterance  to  his  heart's  content — 

"  He  that  is  down  needs  fear  no  fall ; 

He  that  is  poor  no  pride  ; 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide." 

And  that  Land  of  Beulah,  so  near  the  gates  of  the  City,  with 
only  the  river  between,  where  the  pilgrim,  after  the  toils  of  the  way, 
rests  and  ripens  for  glory,  is  so  vividly  presented  to  us,  that,  forget- 
ting our  surroundings,  we  can  sometimes  fancy  ourselves  in  it, 
soothed  and  refreshed  by  its  delicious  influences,  bathed  in  its  golden 
light,  and  breathing  its  balmy  air.  And  the  Celestial  City  itself, 
shining  like  the  sun,  with  its  bells  and  trumpets,  its  golden  pave- 
ment, its  white-robed  inhabitants,  wearing  crowns  and  waving  palms, 
with  "harps  to  play  withal" — what  reader  does  not  feel  as  if  he 
stood  with  the  writer  looking  in  at  the  open  gate,  and,  sympathizing 
with  his  desire,  when  carried  away  by  his  own  imaginings,  he  says, 
"  which,  when  I  had  seen,  I  wished  myself  among  them." 

But  time  would  fail  and  space  forbids  us  to  expatiate  on  the 
beaudes  of  the  book.  The  more  we  study  it,  the  more  do  we  feel 
how  much  it  deserves  its  matchless  popularity  ;  and  the  more  cor- 
dially do  we  recommend  it  to  the  careful  perusal  of  our  readers.  Our 
desire  and  prayer  is,  that  some  of  them  may  be  influenced  by  Bun- 
yan's  pleasant  companionship  and  wise  guidance  to  commence,  or,  if 
they  have  commenced  already,  to  persevere  in  and  complete  the  pil- 
grimage which  he  so  graphically  describes. 


fte  oKutfior'/^   oKpofogLj   for 
(Ki^  Si)oo^C. 


HEN  at  the  first  I  took  my  pen  in  hand, 
Thus  for  to  write,  I  did  r>ot  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  book 
In  such  a  mode  :  nay,  I  had  undertook 
To  make  another ;  which,  when  al^ncst  dcn^ 
Before  I  was  aware,  I  this  begun. 

And  thus  it  was  :  I,  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints  in  this  our  gospel-day, 
Fell  suddenly  into  an  allegory 
About  their  journey  and  the  way  to  glory, 
In  more  than  twenty  things,  which  I  set  down 
This  done,  I  twenty  more  had  in  my  crown ; 
And  then  again  began  to  multiply, 
Like  sparks  that  from  the  coals  of  fire  do  fly. 
Nay  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast 
I'll  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ad  i7ifinitum,  and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I  already  am  about. 

Well,  so  I  did  ;  but  yet  I  did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a  mode ;  I  only  thought  to  make 
I  knew  not  what ;  nor  did  I  undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbor ;  no,  not  I , 
I  did  it  mine  own  self  to  gratify. 

(25) 


'•l^  The  Author  s  Apology. 

Neither  did  J  but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble  ;   nor  did  I  intend 
But  to  divert  myself,  in  doing  this, 
From  worser  thoughts,  which  make  me  do  amiss. 

Thus  I  set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 
And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white, 
For  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 
Still  as  I  pull'd,  it  came  ;  and  sol  penn'd 
It  down  ;  until  at  last  it  came  to  be. 
For  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  see. 

Well,  when  I  had  thus  put  my  ends  together, 
I  showed  them  others,  that  I  might  see  whether 
They  would  condemn  them,  or  them  justify  ; 
And  some  said.  Let  them  live  ;   some,  Let  them  die, 
Some  said,  John  print  it ;  others  said,  Not  so  : 
Some  said.  It  might  do  good  ;  others  said,  No. 

Now  was  I  in  a  strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me  : 
At  last  I  thought.  Since  you  are  thus  divided, 
I  print  it  will ;    and  so  the  case  decided. 
For,  thought  I,  some  I  see  would  have  it  done. 
Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run : 
To  prove,  then,  who  advised  for  the  best, 
Thus  I  thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

I  further  thought,  if  now  I  did  deny 
Those  that  would  have  it  thus  to  gradfy, 
I  did  not  know,  but  hinder  them  I  might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight : 
For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 
I  said  to  them,  Offend  you  I  am  loth  ; 
Yet,  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be. 
Forbear  to  judge,  till  you  do  further  see. 

If  that  thou  wilt  not  read,  let  it  alone  : 
Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  the  bone ; 
Yea,  that  I  might  them  better  moderate, 
I  did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate  : 


The  Author  s  Apology.  2? 

May  I  not  write  in  such  a  style  as  this  ? 
In  such  a  method,  too,  and  yet  not  miss 
My  end,  thy  good  ?     Why  may  it  not  be  done  ? 
Dark  clouds  brinor  waters  when  the  bright  brinof  none; 
Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 
Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 
Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpeth  not  at  either, 
But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together; 
Yea,  so  commixes  both,  that  in  their  fruit 
None  can  distinguish  this  from  that;  they  suit 
Her  well  when  hungry  ;  but  if  she  be  full, 
She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessing  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish ;  what  engines  doth  he  make. 
Behold  !  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits  ; 
Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks,  and  nets : 
Yet  fish  there  be,  that  neither  hook  nor  line. 
Nor  snare,  nor  net,  nor  engine,  can  make  thine : 
They  must  be  groped  for,  and  be  tickled  too. 
Or  they  will  not  be  catch'd,  whate'er  you  do. 
How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game  ? 
By  divers  means,  all  which  one  cannot  name  : 
His  guns,  his  nets,  his  lime-twigs,  light,  and  bell ; 
He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands  ;  yea,  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures  ?     Yet  there's  none  of  these 
Will  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please. 
Yea,  he  must  pipe  and  whistle  to  catch  this, 
Yet,  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  miss. 

If  that  a  pearl  may  in  a  toad's  head  dwell, 
And  may  be  found,  too,  in  an  oyster-shell: 
If  things  that  promise  nothing  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold,  who  will  disdain, 
That  have  an  inkling  of  it,  there  to  look. 
That  they  may  find  it?     Now,  my  little  book 
(Though  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  may  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take) 
Is  not  without  those  things  that  do  excel 
What  do  in  brave  but  empty  notions  dwell. 


28  The  Author  s  Apology. 

Well,  yet  I  am  7iot  fully  satisfied. 
That  this  your  book  ivill  stand  when  soMidly  tried. 

Why,  what's  the  matter?     It  is  dark  I     What  thought 
But  it  is  feigned.     What  of  that,  I  trow  ? 
Some  men,  by  feigned  words,  as  dark  as  mine. 
Make  truth  to  spangle,  and  its  rays  to  shine  ! 
But  they  want  solidness.     Speak,  man,  thy  mind  ! 
They  drown  the  weak  ;  metaphors  make  us  blind. 

SoHdity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men  : 
But  must  I  needs  want  soHdness,  because 
By  metaphors  I  speak  ?     Were  not  God's  laws, 
His  gospel  laws,  in  olden  time  held  forth 
By  shadows,  types,  and  metaphors  ?     Yet  loth 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 
With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  assault 
The  Highest  Wisdom.     No  ;  he  rather  stoops. 
And  seeks  to  find  out  what  by  pins  and  loops, 
By  calves  and  sheep,  by  heifers  and  by  rams, 
By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  lambs, 
God  speaketh  to  him  ;  and  happy  is  he 
That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be. 

Be  not  too  forward,  therefore,  to  conclude 
That  I  want  solidness,  that  I  am  rude : 
All  things  solid  in  show  not  solid  be  : 
All  things  in  parable  despise  not  we, 
Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive, 
And  things  that  good  are,  of  our  souls  bereavec 
My  dark  and  cloudy  words,  they  do  but  hold 
j  The  truth,  as  cabinets  enclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  used  much  by  metaphors 
To  set  forth  truth ;  yea,  whoso  considers 
Christ,  his  apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see 
That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 


The  Authors  Apology.  29 

Am  I  atraid  to  say  that  Holy  Writ, 
Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit, 
Is  everywhere  so  full  of  all  these  things 
(Dark  figures,  allegories)  ?  yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  book  that  lustre,  and  those  rays 
Of  light,  that  turn  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look, 
And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  book 
He  findeth  any  ;  yea,  and  let  him  know, 
That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men. 
To  his  poor  one  I  dare  adventure  ten 
That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 
Come,  Truth,  although  in  swaddling-clouts  I  find, 
Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind  ; 
Pleases  the  understanding,  makes  the  will 
Submit ;  the  memory,  too,  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imagination  please  ; 
Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 

Sound  words,  I  know,  Timothy's  to  use. 
And  old  wives'  fables  he  is  to  refuse  ; 
But  yet  grave  Paul  him  nowhere  did  forbid 
The  use  of  parables,  in  which  lay  hid 
That  gold,  those  pearls,  and  precious  stones  that  were 
Worth  digging  for,  and  that  with  greatest  care. 

Let  me  add  one  word  more  :  Oh,  man  of  God  ! 
Art  thou  offended  ?     Dost  thou  wish  I  had 
Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress  ? 
Or  that  I  had  in  things  been  more  express  ? 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit, 
Three  things  let  me  propound,  then  I  submit:— 

I.     I  find  not  that  I  am  denied  the  use 
Of  this  my  method,  so  I  no  abuse 


"BEHOLD!  THREE  SHINING  ONES  CAME  TO  HIM/ 


(32) 


THE    THREE -SliiMxNX.    UXES. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Den  and  the  Dreamer. 

The  opening  of  the  Vision  presents  in  bold  relief  the  future  hero  of  the  allegory — 
a  burdened  man,  clothed  with  rags  ;  weeping  because  of  threatened  woe  pronounced  by 
the  Book  that  is  in  his  hand.  He  dwells  in  the  City  of  Destruction.  He  reveals  his 
sorrows  and  anxieties  to  his  wife  and  family,  but  finds  no  sympathy  there;  and  failing  to 
obtain  companionship  on  the  heavenward  road,  he  starts  alone  upon  his  spiritual  journey. 

S  I  walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,  I  lighted 
on  a  certain  place  where  was  a  den  ;  and  laid  me  down 
in  that  place  to  sleep  ;  and  as  I  slept  I  dreamed  a  dream. 
I  dreamed,  and  behold  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags 
(Isa.  64:  6),  standing  in  a  certain  place,  with  his  face 
from  his  own  house,  a  book  in  his  hand,  and  a  great  burden  upon 
his  back  (Luke  14  :  13).  I  looked  and  saw  him  open  the  book  and 
read  therein  (Ps,  38  :  4)  ,  and  as  he  read  he  wept  and  trembled 
(Hab.  2:2);  and  not  being  able  longer  to  contain,  he  brake  out 
with  a  lamentable  cry,  saying.  What  shall  I  do  ?     (Acts  2  :  37.) 

In  this  plight  therefore  he  went  home,  and  refrained  himself  as 
long  as  he  could,  that  his  wife  and  children  should  not  perceive  his 
distress ;  but  he  could  not  be  silent  long,  because  that  his  trouble 
increased ;  wherefore  at  length  he  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and 
children,  and  thus  he  began  to  talk  to  them  :  O  my  dear  wife,  said 
he,  and  you  the  children  of  my  bowels,  I  your  dear  friend  am  in  my- 
self undone,  by  reason  of  a  burden  that  lieth  hard  upon  me;  more- 
over, I  am  certainly  informed  that  this  our  city  will  be  burned  with 


The  wilderness  of  this  world. — The  world 
is  a  wilderness  to  the  Christian.  He  is  not 
at  home ;  dwells  in  tents ;  has  only  sandy 
foundations  for  all  his  earthly  things.  There- 
fore is  the  Christian  man  a  pilgrim.  With 
the  pilgrim's  tottering  staff,  and  with  the 
pilgrim's  scanty  fare,  he  is  ever  looking  up- 
ward, going  forward,  tending  onward,  way- 
worn, weatherbeaten ,  houseless,  homeless — 
he  is  now  in  the  wilderness,  but  the  march- 
ing pilgrim  is  ever  "  nearing  home." 


Where  was  a  den. — This  was  the  dungeon 


of  the  jail  in  Bedford,  in  which  Bunyan  was 
imprisoned  for  conscience  and  the  Gospel's 
sake. 

And  as  I  slept.  I  dreajned. — Bunyan, 
though  bereft  of  liberty  in  a  damp  and 
dreary  dungeon,  threw  his  allegory  into  the 
likeness  of  a  perfect  dream. 

And  behol''.  I  saw  a  man,  etc. — Mark  the 
features  of  '::s  vision.  This  man  is  the 
personification  of  the  sinner  awakened  to 
consciousness  of  his  sins.  He  is  "  clothed 
with  rags  " — the  rags  of  his  own  rigbteous* 


3 


(33) 


34 


The  Pilgrun  s  Progress. 


fire    from    heaven  ;    in    which  fearful    overthrow,  both  myself,  with 
thee  my  wife,  and  you   my  sweet  babes,   shall  miserably  come  to 

ruin ;  except  (the  which 
yet  I  see  not)  some  way 
of  escape  may  be  found, 
whereby  we  may  be  de- 
livered. At  this  his  re- 
lations were  sore  amazed; 
not  for  that  they  believed 
that  what  he  had  said 
to  them  was  true,  but  be- 
cause they  thought  some 
frenzy-distemper  had  got 
into  his  head ;  therefore, 
it  drawing  towards  night, 
and  they  hoping  that  sleep 
might  settle  his  brain,  with 
haste  they  got  him  to  bed. 
But  the  night  was  as  trou- 
blesome to  him  as  the  day  ; 
wherefore, instead  of  sleep- 
ing, he  spent  it  in  sighs  and 
tears.  So,  when  the  morn- 
ing was  come,  they  v/ould 
know  how  he  did ;  and 
he  told  them  worse  and 
worse.  He  also  set  to 
talking  to  them  again,  but 
they  began  to  be  harden- 
ed ;  they  also  thought  to 
drive  away  his  distemper 
by  harsh  and  surly  carri- 
ages to  him  ;  sometimes 
they  \vould  deride,  some- 
times they  would  chide, 
and  sometimes  they  would 
quite  neglect  him.  Wherefore  he  began  tG  /cdre  himself  to  his  cham- 
ber, to  pray  for  and  pity  them,  and  also  to  cowduic'  his  own  misery.     He 


CHRISTIAN  READING  HIS  BOOK. 


ness ;   "  standing 


-still   in  doubt,  not  yet 


set  forward ;  "  his  face  from  his  ov 


-^  V  - 


'se 


— lookiti/   ili'j  right 
hand  "-  » ft.  £5',bic; 


'^  ir  •      " 


way 
knd 


a  book  in  his 
a  great   burden 


Christian  breaks  his  Mi^id  to  his  Family^ 


EVANGELIST  DIRECTS  CHRISTIAN  TO  THE  WICKET-GATE. 


would  also  walk  solitarily  in  the  fields,  sometimes  reading  and  some 
times  praying;  aad  thus  for  some  days  he  spent  his  time. 

Now  I  saw  upon  a  time,  when  he  was  walking  in  the  fields,  that 
he  was  (as  he  was  wont)  reading  in  his  book,  and  greatly  distressed 
in  his  mind  ;  and  as  he  read  he  burst  out,  as  he  had  done  before, 
crying,  "What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?"    (Acts  i6:  30,  31.) 

I  saw  also  that  he  looked  this  way  and  that  way,  as  if  he  would 
run  ;  yet  he  stood  still,  because  (as  I  perceived)  he  could  not  tell 
which  way  to  go.     I  looked  then,  and  saw  a  man  named   Evangelist 


on  his  back  " — the  weary  burden  of  his  sin  ; 
"he  we]  t  and  trembled,"  as  every  man 
must  dn  that  is  under  conviction  of  sin. 

What  shall  I  do  ? — This  is  the  first  ques- 
tion ;  and  the  second  is,  "What  shall  I  do 
to  be  sa7'r(i?"  The  convicted  sinner's  first 
thought  is  of  his  danger,  as  if  it  would 
crush  him  ;  the  next  is  of  the  possibihty  of 
escape — salvation. 


He  brake  /u's  mijid  to  his  wife. — Thi? 
paragraph  minutely  depicts  the  agony  of  an 
awakened  sinner — disclosing  some  threat- 
ening evil  to  those  he  loves  best,  and  would 
rescue  if  be  can  ;  those  clays  of  weeping, 
those  restless  nights,  those  darksome  dawn- 
ings  of  the  morning,  that  bring  not  joy,  but 
the  weary  verdict,  "  Worse  and  worse." 

/  saw  a  man  named  Evangelist      Much 


christian  sets  out  from  the  City  of  Destruction. 


m 


coming  (Job  -i)})'-  23)  to  him,  and  he  asked,  Wherefore  dost  thou 
cry  ?  He  answered,  Sir,  I  perceive  by  the  book  in  my  hand  that  I 
am  condemned  to  die,  and  after  that,  to  come  to  judgment;  and  1 
find  that  I  am  not  wiUing  to  do  the  first,  nor  able  to  do  the  second 
(Heb.  9  :  27;  Job  16  :  21,  22  ;  Ezek.  22  :   14), 

Then  said  Evangehst,  Why  not  wilHng  to  die,  since  this  life  is 
attended  with  so  many  evils  ?  The  man  answered.  Because  I  fear 
that  this  burden  that  is  upon  my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the 
grave,  and  I  shall  fall  into  Tophet  (Isa.  30  :  33).  And,  Sir,  if  I 
be  not  fit  to  go  to  prison,  I  am  not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from 
thence   to  execution  ;  and  the  thoughts  of  these  things  make  me  cry 

Then  said  Evangelist,  If  this  be  thy  condition,  why  standest  thou 
still?  He  answered,  Because  I  know  not  whither  to  go.  Then  he 
gave  him  a  parchment-roll  ;  and  there  was  written  within,  "  Flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come  "  (Matt.  3:  7).  The  man  therefore  read  it, 
and,  looking  upon  Evangelist  very  carefully,  said,  Whither  must  I 
flee?  Then  said  Evangelist,  pointing  with  his  finger  over  a  very 
wide  field.  Do  you  see  yonder  wicket-gate?  (Matt.  7:  13,  14;  Ps. 
119,  105  ;  2  Pet.  I  :    19.)     The  man  said.  No. 

Then  said  the  other,  Do  you  see  yonder  shining  light?  He 
said,  I    think  I  do.     Then  said    Evangelist,  Keep  that  light  in  your 


of  Bunyan's  private  history  is  interwoven 
throughout  the  allegory.  In  fact,  it  is  a 
spiritual  autobiography,  recounting  his  own 
dangers,  doubts,  helps,  and  manifold  expe- 
riences. "  Evangelist  "  is  supposed  to 
mean  the  good  Mr.  Gifford,  under  whose 
instruction  and  ministry  Bunyan  so  greatly 
profited.  Mr.  Gifford  had  been  a  major  in 
the  king's  army,  and  a  persecutor  of  those 
who,  like  Bunyan,  overstepped  the  narrow 
bounds  of  that  unhappy  period.  He,  how- 
ever, afterward  became  a  converted  man, 
and  was  the  founder  of  a  church  in  Bedford, 
which  was  subsequently  ministered  to  by 
Bunyan  himself,  and  has  continued  its  suc- 
cession of  testimony  to  the  present  day. 

Wherefore  dost  thou  cry  ? — What  a  vol- 
ume might  be  written  in  answer  to  this 
question !  Everything  conspires  to  draw 
forth  his  sighs  and  tears.  The  weight  of 
his  burden  ;  the  lack  of  sympathy  at  home  ; 
the  derision,  the  chiding,  the  neglect  which 
he  received  from  friends ;  the  musing  upon 
his  forlorn  condition  in  the  secrecy  of  his 


chamber,  and  in  hii?  solitary  walks ;  the 
dread  realization  of  s.'n  and  fear  of  death, 
and  conscious  unpreparedness  for  judgment 
— all  these  circumsta  ices  conspire  to  open 
the  fountain  of  his  tei  rs. 

Prison — -judgment—  -execution. — This  pro- 
gression of  wrath  and  condemnation,  arising 
out  of  conviction  of  sin,  alarms  the  Pilgrim. 
He  sees  scope  beyond  scope,  depth  beyond 
depth,  darkness  beyond  darkness  ;  and  be- 
ing as  yet  without  hope  and  without  God  in 
the  world,  he  sees  no  light  at  all  to  illumi- 
nate  this  darksome  prospect. 

He  fears  the  "  prison,"  the  first  stage  of 
spiritual  apprehension,  mto  which  he  enters 
for  trial ;  and  seeing  he  enters  that  prison 
with  a  conscience  deeply  convicted  of  guilt 
and  sin  and  knowing  how  unerring  is  the 
mind  of  God,  and  how  stern  and  unbending 
is  the  justice  of  his  throne,  that  prison  be- 
comes the  inevitable  threshold  to  "judg- 
ment." 

He  is  still  more  terribly  afraid  of  "judg- 
ment."    There   is   no   plea    of  innocence; 


38 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


eye,  and  go  up  directly  thereto,  so  shalt  thou  see  the  gate,  at  which 
when  thou  knockest  it  shall  be  told  thee  what  thou  shalt  do. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  man  began  to  run.  Now  he 
had  not  run  far  from  his  own  door,  but  his  wife  and  children  perceiv- 
ing it  began  to  cry  after  him  to  return  ;  but  the  man  put  his  fingers 
in  his  ears,  and  ran  on  crying,  Life  !  life  !  eternal  life  !  So  he  looked 
not  behind  him,  but  tied  toward  the  middle  of  the  plain. 

The  neighbors  also  came  out  to  see  him  run  ;  and  as  he  ran 
some  mocked,  others  threatened,  and  some  cried  after  him  to  re- 
turn ;  and  among  those  that  did  so,  there  were  two  that  were  re- 
solved to  fetch  him  back  by  force.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Obsti- 
nate, and  the  name  of  the  other  Pliable.  Now  by  this  time  the  man 
was  got  a  good  distance  from  them  ;  but,  however,  they  were  resolved 
to  pursue  him  ;  which  they  did,  and  in  a  little  time  overtook  him. 
Then  said  the  man,  Neighbors, wherefore  are  ye  come?  They  said, 
To  persuade  you  to  go  back  with  us  ;  but  he  said.  That  can  by  no 
means  be.  You  dwell,  said  he,  in  the  City  of  Destruction,  the  place 
where  also  I  was  born  :  I  see  it  to  be  so ;  and  dying  there,  sooner 
or  later  you  will  sink  lower  than  the  grave,  into  a  place  that  burns 
with  fire  and  brimstone  ;  be  content,  good  neighbors,  and  go  along 
with  me. 


there  is  no  extenuation  of  his  sin  ;  there  is 
nothing  in  himself  to  mitigate  the  wrath,  or 
to  turn  aside  the  judgment  of  God.  To 
him,  then,  judgment  is  the  proof  of  his  guilt, 
and  the  consequent  sentence  of  death  is 
pronounced  against  him.  And  this  involves 
a  yet  further  sequel — "execution." 

And  most  of  all  he  fears  this  doom  of 
"  execution."  He  is  brought  by  conviction 
of  sin  into  prison  ;  and  from  prison  to  judg- 
ment ;  and  from  judgment  to  execution ; 
and  that  is,  not  only  death,  but  something 
after  death ;  not  only  the  grave,  but  some- 
thing "  lower  than  the  grave  " — it  is  death 
of  body  and  soul,  loss  of  life  and  loss  of 
heaven,  and  all  the  eternity  of  woe,  and  all 
the  unutterable  misery  that  is  wrapped  up 
in  the  doom  of  the  lost  and  in  the  destiny 
of  hell. 

A  parchment-roll. — This  was  Evangelist's 
gift  to  the  Pilgrim,  with  a  motto  that  urged 
him  to  flight  And  this  was  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  the  further  counsel,  whither  to  flee. 
The  roll  of  parchment,  as  on  other  occa- 


sions, means  that  the  advice  of  Evangelist 
is  to  be  retained  and  preserved  as  an  en- 
during possession.     Now  there  is  hope  ! 

Yonder  wicket-gate. — Not  yet  attained  ; 
yet  further  on.  The  Pilgrim  is  short-sight- 
ed ;  he  cannot  see  the  gate.  It  is  seen  and 
may  be  known  by  its  halo  of  light.  Thus 
Evangelist  acts  as  a  finger-post,  directing 
the  way,  and  helping  the  power  of  the  Pil- 
grim's eyesight. 

The  man  began  to  run. — The  directions 
once  given,  his  earnestness  quickens  his 
steps  ;  and  whatever  doubt  or  hesitancy  may 
have  been  before,  now  at  least  he  can  do 
naught  else  but  run.  He  is  on  for  his  life, 
and  must  not  delay.  No,  not  for  wife  or 
child,  or  the  overture  of  any  friend.  They 
are  content  to  remain  in  sin,  and  to  dwell 
in  the  midst  of  danger  and  destruction ; 
and  this  being  so,  he  takes  his  spiritual  way 
alone.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  family  circle,  which 
now  presents  just  one  of  its  members  con- 
vinced of  sin,  but  all  the  rest  impenitent 
and  unbelieving.     This  one  member  would 


Obstinate  and  Pliable. 


^^^ 


What,  said  Obstinate,  and  leave  our  friends  and  our  comforts 
behind  us ! 

Yes,  said  Christian  (for  that  was  his  name),  because  that  all  \< 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  a  little  of  that  that  I  am  seeking  to 
enjoy  ;  and  if  you  will  go  along  with  me,  and  hold  it,  you  shall  faro 
as  I  myself;  for  there  where  I  go  is  enough  and  to  spare  :  come 
away,  and  prove  my  words  (Luke  15  :   17). 

Obst,  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave  all  the 
world  to  find  them  ? 

Chr.  I  seek  an  "inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away:"  and  it  is  "laid  up  in  heaven,"  and  safe  there,  to  be 
bestowed  at  the  time  appointed  on  them  that  diligently  seek  it.  Read 
it  so,  if  you  will,  in  my  book  (i  Pet.  i:  4-6;  Heb.  9:  6,   16). 

Tush,  said  Obstinate,  away  with  your  book:  will  you  go  back 
with  us,  or  no  ? 

No,  not  I,  said  the  other,  because  I  have  laid  my  hand  to  the 
plough   (Luke  9  :  62). 

Obst,  Come,  then,  neighbor  Pliable,  let  us  turn  again,  and  go 
home  without  him  :  there  is  a  company  of  these  craz'd-headed  cox- 
combs that,  when  they  take  a  fancy  by  the  end,  are  wiser  in  their 
own  eyes  than  seven  men  that  can  render  a  reason. 

Then  said  Pliable,  Do  not  revile  ;  if  what  the  good   Christian 


desire  to  have  all  the  other  members  to  bear 
him  company  toward  Zion  ;  but  they  refuse. 
His  mind  is  made  up  to  go  alone,  rather 
than  not  to  go  at  all.  And  out  of  the  midst 
of  the  threatened  overthrow  he  speeds  his 
onward  way,  still  bearing  his  family  com- 
pany in  temporal  things,  but  in  things  spir- 
itual he  is  all  alone. 

How  often  does  it  happen  that  one  mem- 
ber of  a  family  starts  for  heaven  without 
father,  or  mother,  or  brother,  or  sister,  to 
bear  him  company  !  It  is  this  that  divides 
and  separates  families  and  friendships  here  ; 
and  if  they  become  not  one  in  Christ  it  sepa- 
rates eternally  hereafter.  Many  such  sepa- 
rate pilgrimages  are  undertaken  even  now : 
the  husband  without  the  wife  ;  the  wife  with- 
out the  husband.  It  may  be  twain  brothers, 
or  two  fond  sister,  ahke  in  disposition  and 
deportment — alike,  it  may  be,  in  the  exter- 
nals of  religion,  and  yet  separated  by  this 
dividing  line.  Like  two  rivers,  rising  from 
the  self-same  fountain,  and  running  side  by 


side  at  the  outset  of  their  course,  but  then, 
by  a  slight  and  gentle  deviation,  parting 
company,  and  at  last,  in  opposite  directions, 
mingling  their  waters  with  the  ocean :  the 
one  amid  the  verdure  and  foliage,  and  fruits 
and  flowers,  of  the  tropics  ;  the  other  amid 
the  ice-bound  regions  of  perpetual  barren- 
ness and  desolation. 

Obstinate  and  Pliable. — This  personifica- 
tion of  abstract  terms  adds  much  to  the 
interest  of  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and 
lends  a  great  charm  to  the  character  intro- 
duced. These  two  are  named  from  their 
nature,  which  soon  manifests  itself  in  their 
conduct. 

Obstinate  is  evidently  a  mocker,  who 
scoffs  at  the  possessors  of  religion.  He 
cannot  understand  why  the  Pilgrim  should 
leave  his  worldly  associations,  or  believe  the 
book  that  bids  him  to  forsake  all  for  Christ. 
He  even  waxes  angry  because  his  words 
seem  to  take  no  effect.  And  by-and-by  he 
rails  on  the  Pilgrim,   and  reviles  him   for 


40 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress, 


OBSTINATE  GOES  BACK  TO  THE  CITY  OF  DESTRUCTION. 

says  is  true,  the  things  he  looks  after  are  better  than  ours  :  my  heart 
indines  to  go  with  my  neighbor. 

Obst.  What !  more  fools  still  ?  Be  ruled  by  me,  and  go  back  ; 
who  knows  whither  such  a  brain-sick  fellow  will  lead  you  ?  Go  back, 
go  back,  and  be  wise. 

Chr.  Come  with  me,  neighbor  Pliable  ;  there  are  such  things 
to  be  had  which  I  spoke  of,  and  many  more  glories  besides:  if  you 
believe  not  me,  read  here  in  this  book ;  and,  for  the  truth  of  what  is 


what  he  believes  to  be  his  folly  or  his  fancy 
in  committing  himself  to  the  fortunes  of  so 
strange  an  expedition. 

Pliable  yields  for  a  time ;  is  easily  turned 
hither  and  thither,  but  has  no  perseverance 
in  the  right  way.  He  is  caught  by  prom- 
ises, and  is  beckoned  on  by  hopes,  but 
counts  not  the  cost  of  the  journey.  He  is 
phable  for  good,  or  he  is  phable  for  evil ; 
and  is  ready  for  either  way,  according  to 
circumstances. 

Meanwhile  the  Pilgrim,  who  is  now  for 


the  first  time  called  by  the  name  of  Chris- 
tian, is  fighting  a  hard  fight,  and  he  is 
waging  it  well.  He  contends  in  faith  and 
hope.  His  faith  leads  him  to  leave  friends 
and  comforts  behind  him,  which  Obstinate 
will  not  do.  His  hope  points  to  the  glory 
beyond — the  incorruptible  inheritance.  His 
Book  teaches  him  all  this ;  the  testimony  of 
that  Book  is  confirmed  by  the  blood  of  Him 
that  gave  it ;  and  thus,  with  the  faith  that 
forsakes  house  and  family  and  friends  for 
Christ,  and,  with  the  hope  that  beckons  on 


Obstinate  and  Pliable. 


41 


expressed  therein,  behold  all  is  affirmed  by  the  blood  of  him  that 
made  it  (Heb.  9  :    17-22). 

Well,  neighbor  Obstinate,  saith  Pliable,  I  begin  to  come  to  a 
point :  I  intend  to  go  along  with  this  good  man,  and  to  cast  in  my 
lot  with  him.  But,  my  good  companion,  do  you  know  the  way  to 
this  desired  place  ? 


CHRISTIAN  AT  PRAYER. 

Chr.  I  am  directed  by  a  man  whose  name  is  Evangelist,  to 
speed  me  to  a  little  gate  that  is  before  us,  where  we  shall  receive 
instructions  about  the  way. 

Pli.  Come,  then,  good  neighbor,  let  us  be  going.  Then  they 
went  both  together. 

And  I  will  go  back  to  my  place,  said  Obstinate.  I  will  be  no 
companion  to  such  misled,  fantastical  fellows. 


to  the  better  land,  Christian  determines  to 
hold  fast  by  the  plough  which  he  hath  put 
his  hand  unto.  Hence  this  formidable 
temptation  is  successfully  resisted,  and  the 
Pilgrim   steadily   pursues   his  way ;  Obsti- 


nate turns  back,  and  is  got  rid  of  as  an 
enemy,  while  Pliable  goes  on,  and  (for  a 
time  at  least)  bears  the  Pilgrim  company  a? 
a  friend. 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  Slough  of  Despond. 

Obstinate  in  his  self-will  has  returned  to  the  City  of  Destruction.  Pliable,  won  for 
a  moment  to  the  cause  of  the  Pilgrim,  pliably  tries  the  fortune  of  the  road,  merely  for  specu- 
lation and  experiment.  So  long  as  Religion  walks  in  silver  sandals  and  enjoys  the  sun- 
shine, he  is  content  to  abide  with  Christian  ;  but  if  the  sky  should  darken,  or  the  way  prove 
hazardous,  he  that  has  turned  his  face  forward  will  as  easily  turn  backward,  and  forsake 
the  pilgrimage. 

OW  I  saw  in  my  dream  that,  when  Obstinate  was  gone 
back,  Christian  and  Phable  went  talking  over  the  plain  ; 
and  thus  they  began  their  discourse. 

Chr.  Come,  neighbor  Pliable,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am 
glad  you  are  persuaded  to  go  along  with  me  ;  had  even 
Obstinate  himself  but  felt  what  I  have  felt  of  the  powers  and  terrors 
of  what  is  yet  unseen,  he  would  not  thus  lightly  have  given  us  the 
back. 

Pli.  Come,  neighbor  Christian,  since  there  are  none  but  us 
two  here,  tell  me  now  further  what  the  things  are,  and  how  to  be 
enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

Chr.  I  can  better  conceive  ot  them  with  my  mind  than  speak 
of  them  with  my  tongue ;  but  yet,  since  you  are  desirous  to  know,  I 
will  read  of  them  in  my  book. 

Pli.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of  your  book  are  certainly 
true  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  verily,  for  it  was  made  by  him  that  cannot  lie  (Titus 
I  :  2,  9). 


Made  by  him  that  cannot  lie. — In  answer 
to  Pliable's  curious  questions,  Christian 
refers  to  his  "  Book ;"  and  in  evidence  of 
the  veracity  and  authority  of  the  Book,  he 
states  that  "  it  was  made  by  him  that  cannot 
lie."  There  is  no  basis  of  argument,  no 
groundwork  of  promise,  no  foothold  of 
faith,  no  certainty  at  all,  unless  the  Bible  be 
true.  To  disturb  this  authority  is  to  destroy 
fundamental  truth  ;  and,  "  if  the  foundations 
be  destroyed,  what  shall  the  righteous  do  ?" 


What  things  are  they? — Pliable  is  not 
very  anxious,  if  anxious  at  all,  about  the 
authority  of  "  the  Book."  His  spirit  of  curi- 
osity is  greater  than  his  spirit  of  earnest  in- 
quiry. He  feels  no  burden,  realizes  no  nat- 
ural unfitness,  and  only  wants  to  know  what 
are  the  hopes  held  out ;  and  if  they  be  good 
and  profitable,  he  would  desire  to  have 
them,  if  they  can  be  obtained  without  any 
self-denial  on  his  part. 

And  what  else  ? — Still  with  an  insatiable 


(42) 


Christian  a7iswers  Pliable  s  Questions. 


43 


Pli.    Well  said  ;  what  things  are  they  ? 

Chr.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be  inhabited,  and  ever- 
lasting life  to  be  given  us,  that  we  may  inhabit  that  kingdom  for- 
ever (Isa.  45:  17  ;  John  10:  27-29). 

Pli,    Well  said  ;  and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  are  crowns  of  glory  to  be  given  us  ;  and  garments 
that  will  make  us  shine  like  the  sun  in  the  firmament  of  heaven  (2 
Tim.  4:  8;  Rev.  3:  4;  Matt.  13:  43). 

Pli.    This  is  excellent :   and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying  nor  sorrow ;  for  he  that  is 
owner  of  the  place  will  wipe  all  tears  from  our  eyes  (Isa.  25:8;  Rev. 
7:  16,  17  ;  21  :  4). 

Pli.    And  what  company  shall  we  have  there  ? 

Chr.  There  we  shall  be  with  Seraphims  and  Cherubims, 
creatures  that  will  dazzle  your  eyes  to  look  on  them  (Isa.  6:  2;  r 
Thess.  4  :  16,  17).  There,  also,  you  shall  meet  with  thousands  and  ten 
thousands  that  have  gone  before  us  to  tl.&t  place ;  none  of  them  are 
hurtful,  but  loving  and  holy ;  everyone  walking  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  standing  in  his  presence  with  acceptance  forever  (Rev.  4:  4; 
14:  1-5).  In  a  word,  there  we  shall  see  the  elders  with  their  golden 
crowns;  there  we  shall  see  holy  virgins  with  their  golden  harps; 
there  we  shall  see  men  that  by  the  world  were  cut  in  pieces,  burnt 
in  flames,  eaten  of  beasts,  drowned  in  seas,  for  the  love  that  they 
bare  to  the  Lord  of  the  place  ;  all  well,  and  clothed  with  immortality 
as  with  a  garment  (John  12:  25  ;   2  Cor.  5:  2-5). 

Pli.  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one's  heart.  But 
are  these  things  to  be  enjoyed  ?  How  shall  we  get  to  be  sharers 
hereof? 


avidity  Pliable  drinks  in  the  description  of 
heaven,  and  demands  yet  more.  Chris- 
tian is  led  on  by  the  evident  interest  he  has 
awakened  in  the  mind  of  his  new  comrade. 
He  descants  most  eloquently  of  the  "end- 
less kingdom  "  and  "  everlasting  life  "  and 
the  glorious  "garments"  of  the  redeemed. 
Pliable's  pulse  beats  high  ;  his  curiosity  is 
more  and  more  quickened.  It  is  surely 
something  to  meet  by-and-by  with  proph- 
ets and  apostles  and  martyrs  and  such 
company  as  these 

Are  these  things  to  be  enjoyed? — "  Let  us 
all  learn,"  says  a  recent  writer  on  the  Pil- 
grim's   Progress,    "  to    distinguish    an   easy 


pliable  disposition  from  the  broken  heart  of 
a  genuine  penitent.  You  may  be  very  op- 
posite to  an  obstinate  man,  with  whom  you 
have  been  associated.  You  may  have  a  great 
respect  for  real  Christians ;  but  if  you  con- 
fine your  view  only  to  the  bright  side  of  re 
ligion  ;  if  you  are  carried  away  by  its  lively 
representations  of  peace  and  rest  and  joy 
and  glory,  without  any  thorough  awakening 
to  the  power  and  terror  of  the  unseen  world, 
and  without  any  feeling  of  the  burden  upon 
your  back — I  mean  a  sense  of  your  de- 
praved and  sinful  state—  if  this.  I  say  be 
your  experience,  your  goodness  will  only  be 
as  the  morning  cloud  and  the  early  dew. 


44 


The  Pilg^dnis  Progress. 


Chr.  The  Lord,  the  Governor  of  the  country,  hath  recorded 
Ihatm  this  book,  the  substance  of  which  is,  if  we  be  truly  wiUing  to 
have  it,  he  will  bestow  it  upon  us  freely  (Isa.  55:  1-3;  John  6:  37  ;  7: 
37;  Rev.  21:6;  22:  17). 

Pli.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I  to  hear  these  things. 
Come  on,  let  us  mend  our  pace. 

Chr.  I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason  of  this  burden 
diat  is  on  my  back. 

Now,  1  saw  in  my  dream  that,  just  as  they  had  ended  this  talk, 
they  drew  nigh  to  a  very  miry  slough  that  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
plain,  and  they,  being  heedless,  did  both  fall  suddenly  into  the  bog. 
The  name  of  the  slough  was  Despond.  Here,  therefore,  they  wal- 
lowed for  a  time,  being  grievously  bedaubed  with  the  dirt ;  and 
Chrisdan,  because  of  the  burden  that  was  on  his  back,  began  to  sink 
in  the  mire. 

Then  said  Pliable,  Ah !  neighbor  Christian,  where  are  you 
now  ? 

Truly,  said  Christian,  I  do  not  know. 


You  are  only  a  stony-ground  hearer.  Not- 
withstanding your  hvely  emotions,  your 
ready  profession,  your  joyful  feelings,  and 
your  hasty  movements,  you  have  no  root  in 
yourself.  You  will  endure  but  for  a  season. 
When  tribulation  or  persecution  ariseth  be- 
cause of  the  Word,  you  will  be  offended. 
Oh,  the  unspeakable  blessing  of  a  thor- 
oughly awakened,  a  deeply  humble  heart ! 
Let  us  remember  that  this  is  the  special 
work  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  however  pain- 
ful or  distressing,  let  us  constantly  seek  that, 
by  his  gracious  operation,  it  may  be  actually 
wrought  within  us." 

Let  us  mend  our  pace. — Pliable,  intent 
upon  the  prospective  glories  of  the  place,  of 
which  he  has  just  received  so  glowing  an 
account,  desires  to  hasten  on.  But  the  Pil- 
grim, albeit  he  did  hastily  run  from  the  City 
of  Destruction,  yet  now  slackens  his  pace ; 
he  can  run  no  longer.  Pliable  feels  no 
weight.  He  has  undertaken,  and  now  thus 
far  continues,  his  pilgrimage,  not  by  reason 
of  conviction  of  sin  or  consciousness  of  any 
burden,  but  because  of  the  glorious  prospect 
of  heaven,  and  the  blessedness  that  Chris- 
tian tells  him  of.  He  cannot,  therefore, 
see  any  reason  why  he  should  not  run  all 


the  way  to  the  possession  of  these  great 
promises.  But  the  Pilgrim  is  "  weary  and 
heavy  laden."  Although  full  of  confidence 
in  the  words  of  his  Book,  which  assure  him 
that  the  kingdom  will  be  freely  bestowed  on 
those  who  sincerely  seek  it,  he  is  neverthe- 
less weighed  down  by  a  sense  of  sin  and  so 
deeply  conscious  of  his  own  weakness  and 
infirmity  that  he  cannot  step  forward  thus 
quickly  For  such  a  race  it  needs  that  we 
"  renew  our  strength  ;"'  and  they  alone  can 
do  this  who  "  wait  upon  the  Lord."  It  is  of 
these  that  the  prophet  speaks,  "  They  shall 
mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles ;  they  shall 
run,  and  not  be  weary  ;  and  they  shall  walk, 
and  not  faint"  (Isa.  40:  31).  Christian 
knows  this,  taught  by  experience  to  know 
the  weight  of  his  "burden."  He  therefore 
checks  the  presumption  of  Pliable,  saying, 
"  I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason 
of  this  burden  that  is  on  my  back." 

A  very  miry  slough. — Since  Christian's 
flight  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  this  is 
his  first  difficulty  and  downfall — "  they  being 
heedless  did  both  suddenly  fall  into  the 
bog."  This  was  the  Slough  of  Despond. 
In  this  miry  place  Christian  seems  to  fare 
worse  than  his  fellow ;  for  by  reason  of  bis 


HELP  DRAWS  CHRISTIAN  OUT  OF  THF  '•^^"-^^  OF  DESPOND.       45 


46 


The  Pilgrints  Progress. 


At  that  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  angrily  said  to  his 
fellow,  Is  this  the  happiness  you  have  told  me  all  this  while  of?  If 
"we  have  such  ill  speed  at  our  first  setting  out,  what  may  we  expect 
betwixt  this  and  our  journey's  end?  May  I  get  out  again  with  my 
life,  you  shall  possess  the  brave  country  alone  for  me.  And  with 
that  he  gave  a  desperate  struggle  or  two,  and  got  out  of  the  mire  on 
that  side  of  the  slough  which  was  next  to  his  own  house.  So  away 
he  went,  and  Christian  saw  him  no  more. 

Wherefore  Christian  was  left  to  tumble  in  the  Slough  of  Des- 
pond alone  ;  but  still  he  endeavored  to  struggle  to  that  side  of  the 
slough  that  was  still  further  from  his  own  house,  and  next  to  the 
Wicket-gate  ;  the  which  he  did,  but  could  not  get  out,  because  of  the 
burden  that  was  upon  his  back.  But  I  beheld  in  my  dream  that  a 
man  came  to  him  whose  name  was  Help,  and  asked  him  what  he 
did  there. 

Sir,  said  Christian,  I  was  bid  go  this  way  by  a  man  called  Evan- 
gelist, who  directed  me  also  to  yonder  gate,  that  I  might  escape  the 
wrath  to  come  ;  and  as  I  was  going  thither  I  fell  in  here. 

Help.    But  why  did  you  not  look  for  the  steps  ? 


burden  (that  is,  conscious  sin),  he  sinks 
deeper  and  deeper.  Pliable,  feeling  no 
such  burden,  is  simply  bedaubed,  but  is  also 
most  grievously  offended.  He  naturally 
feels  that  this  is  a  sudden  and  unlooked-for 
descent  from  the  crowns  and  harps  and 
dazzling  glories  of  which  they  had  been 
speaking.  Accordingly,  having  no  correct 
views  of  the  state  of  man  and  of  the  plan  of 
deliverance,  in  time  of  temptation  or  trial, 
he  falleth  away.  Pliable's  first  experiences 
offend  him ;  and  at  once,  with  a  desperate 
struggle  or  two,  he  releases  himself  from 
the  mire,  at  that  side  of  the  swamp  that  was 
nearest  his  native  home. 

Not  so  the  Pilgrim  of  Zion.  Christian, 
now  left  alone,  struggles  toward  the  side 
nearest  the  Wicket-gate.  All-burdened 
with  sin,  an  1  sinking  in  the  miry  clay,  he 
feels  his  danger  and  his  desolate  condition. 
How  dreary  and  how  dreadful  is  this  place  ! — 

I  "  Where  hardly  a  human  foot  could  pass, 

I  Or  a  human  heart  would  dare, 

On  the  auaking  turf  of  the  green  morass. 
His  all  he  had  trusted  there." 

But  Christian  now  looks  elsewhere  for 
help,  and   makes  every    effort   to  be  free. 


Some  one  has  well  said,  "  There  is  one  test 
by  which  to  distinguish  the  godly  from  the 
ungodly,  when  both  have  fallen  even  into 
the  selfsame  sin.  It  is  the  test  by  which 
you  may  know  a  sheep  from  swine,  when 
both  have  fallen  into  the  same  slough,  and 
are,  in  fact,  so  bemired  that  neither  by  coat 
nor  color  can  the  one  be  distinguished 
from  the  other.  How,  then,  distinguish 
them  ?  Nothing  more  easy.  The  unclean 
animal,  in  circumstances  agreeable  to  its 
nature,  wallows  in  the  mire;  but  the  sheep 
fills  the  air  with  its  bleatings,  nor  ceases  its 
struggles  to  get  out." 

Thus  Pliable,  disappointed  of  his  hopes, 
and  not  being  patient  of  the  Pilgrimage,  re- 
turns to  Destruction  ;  while  Christian,  with 
earnest  struggles  to  be  free,  still  "looks  to 
the  hills,  from  whence  cometh  his  help." 

Whose  name  was  Help. — When  man  has 
done  his  best,  and  yet  that  best  is  nothing, 
then  comes  Help.  This  kind  messenger  is 
Christ.  He  reproves  the  Pilgrim  that  he 
had  not  looked  for  "the  steps."  And 
Christian  answers  that  "fear  followed" 
him,  and  thus  he  missed  the  steps.  These 
stepping-stones  are  the  promises  of  G"d  in 


An  Account  of  the  Slough  of  Despond. 


47 


Chr.  Fear  followed  me  so  hard  that  I  fled  the  next  way,  and 
fell  in. 

Then  said  he,  Give  me  thy  hand.  So  he  gave  him  his  hand, 
and  he  drew  him  out,  and  set  him  on  sound  ground,  and  let  him  go 
on  his  way  (Ps.  40 :  2  ;  Isa.  35:  3,  4).  ^ 

Then  I  stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,  and  said.  Sir, 
wherefore,  since  over  this  place  is  the  way  from  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion 10  yonder  gate,  is  it  that  this  plat  is  not  mended,  that  poor 
travellers  might  go  thither  with  more  security?  And  he  said  to  me, 
This  miry  slough  is  such  a  place  as  cannot  be  mended.  It  is  the 
descent  whither  the  scum  and  filth  that  attend  conviction  of  sin  do 
continually  run,  and  therefore  it  is  called  the  Slough  of  Despond  ;  for 
still,  as  the  sinner  is  awakened  about  his  lost  condition,  there  arise 
in  his  soul  many  fears  and  doubts  and  discouraging  apprehensions, 
which  all  of  them  get  together,  and  settle  in  this  place ;  and  this  is 
the  reason  of  the  badness  of  this  ground.  It  is  not  the  pleasure  of 
the  King  that  this  place  should  remain  so  bad.  His  laborers  also 
have,  by  the  direction  of  his  Majesty's  surveyors,  been  for  above 
these  sixteen  hundred  years  employed  about  this  patch  of  ground,  if 
perhaps  it  might  be  mended  ;  yea,  and  to  my  knowledge,  said  he, 
here  have  been  swallowed  up  at  least  twenty  thousand  cartloads,  yea, 
millions  of  wholesome    instructions,  that  have   at  all  seasons  been 


Christ.  Now  "fear"  never  yet  brought  a 
man  to  the  promises  ;  it  only  drives  us  from 
them,  so  that  we  lose  the  way. 

Give  me  thy  hand. — Such  is  the  real  help 
that  Christ  gives  the  Christian.  "  His  own 
arm  brought  slvation."  What  would  have 
been  the  condition  of  any  of  us  had  not  the 
hand  of  the  Lord  upheld  us,  as  he  upheld 
the  affrighted  Peter,  when  his  faith  failed 
him,  and  he  began  to  sink  ?  Hence  the 
Psalmist,  after  his  deliverance,  thus  tells  of 
the  mercy  of  the  Lord :  "  I  waited  patiently 
for  the  Lord ;  aiid  he  inclined  unto  me  and 
heard  my  cry.  He  brought  me  up  also  out 
of  an  horrible  pit,  out  of  the  miry  clay,  and 
set  my  feet  upon  a  rock,  and  established 
my  g  ings.  And  he  hath  put  a  new  song 
in  my  mouth,  even  praise  unto  our  God : 
many  shall  see  it,  and  fear,  and  shall  trust 
in  the  Lord"  (Ps.  40:   13). 

Then  I  stepped  to  him. — Here  the  dreamer 
takes  part  in  his  own  vision  ;  that  such  a 
Cwamp  as  this  should  be  permitted  to  exist 


is  to  him  a  marvel,  and  he  seeks  the  inter- 
pretation thereof.  This,  it  appears,  is  the 
low  level  of  spiritual  experience,  into  which 
flows  the  drainage  of  conviction  of  sin.  Into 
this  Despond  most  men  fall ;  some  to  go 
thence  on  their  Pilgrimage  wiser  and  better 
men ;  others  to  turn  back,  and  walk  no 
more  with  Jesus. 

Some  men  whose  minds  are  well  in- 
structed in  Divine  truth,  and  whose  faith  in 
"  present  help  "  is  lively,  do  not  sink  very 
deeply  into  this  "  horrible  pit ;"  while  others, 
whose  faith  is  weak,  are  almost  overwhelmed, 
and  remain  for  a  considerable  time  with 
little  or  no  hope.  This  latter  class  of  per- 
sons are  commonly  those  who  have  gone 
great  lengths  in  sin,  or  whose  habit  it  is  to 
brood  continually  over  the  evil  which  they 
find  within  their  own  hearts  instead  of  look- 
ing out  of  themselves  to  the  Saviour,  and 
resting  upon  those  precious  words  of  invita- 
tion and  encouragement  which  he  addresses 
to  sinners.     There  is  a  humility  which  par- 


48 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


brought  from  all  places  of  the  King's  dominions  (and  they  that  can 
tell,  say  that  they  are  the  best  materials  to  make  good  ground  of  the 
place,  if  so  be  it  might  be  mended)  ;  but  it  is  the  Slough  of  Des- 
pond still,  and  so  will  be  when  they  have  done  what  they  can. 
True,  there  are,  by  the  direction  of  the  Lawgiver,  certain  good  and 
substantial  steps  placed  even  through  the  very  midst  of  this  slough ; 
but,  at  such  time  as  this  place  doth  much  spew  out  its  filth,  as  it  doth 
against  change  of  weather,  these  steps  are  hardly  seen  ;  or  if  they  be, 
men,  through  the  dizziness  of  their  heads,  step  beside,  and  then  they 
are  bemired  to  purpose,  notwithstanding  the  steps  be  there  ;  but 
the  ground  is  good  when  they  are  once  got  in  at  the  Gate  (i  Sam. 
12:  22). 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  by  this  time  Pliable  was  got  home 
to  his  house.  So  his  neighbors  came  to  visit  him  ;  and  some  of 
them  called  him  wise  man  for  coming  back ;  and  some  called  him 
fool  for  hazarding  himself  with  Christian  ;  others,  again,  did  mock  at 
his  cowardliness,  saying.  Surely,  since  you  began  to  venture,  I  would 
not  have  been  so  base  as  to  have  given  out  for  a  few  difficulties.  So 
Pliable  sat  sneakingr  amontj  them.  But  at  last  he  o-ot  more  confi 
dence,  and  then  they  all  turned  their  tales,  and  began  to  deride  poor 
Christian  behind  his  back.     And  thus  much  concerninof  Pliable. 


takes  largely  of  unbelief,  and  which,  there- 
fore, cannot  be  a  frame  of  mind  pleasing  in 
the  sight  of  God. 

And  this  Slough  of  Despond  continues  to 
the  present  day,  notwithstanding  all  the  ef- 
forts that  are  put  forth  to  mend  it,  the  down- 
fall of  many  hopeful  ones,  a  grievous  snare 
to  many  of  the  Pilgrims  of  the  heavenly  way 
at  the  commencement  of  their  Christian 
career.  Two  hundred  years  have  passed 
since  Bunyan  sounded  its  depths,  and  it  is 
not  mended  yet  The  whole  aggregate  in- 
fluence of  the  Christian  Church  and  Chris- 
tian men  is  insufficient  to  satisfy  its  hungry 
appetite  for  souls,  that  sometimes  through 
it  go  down  quick  into  hell.  Instructors, 
teachers,  preachers,  guides,  missionaries, 
martyrs,  Bibles,  churches,  all  have  failed  to 


take  effect ;  the  whole  working  power  of 
Christendom  has  not  succeeded  in  throwing 
across  this  swamp  a  beaten  highway  for  the 
Christian  to  the  City  of  the  King.  It  is  only 
by  believing  faith  in  the  work  of  Christ,  that 
this  Slough  can  be  safely  overpassed.  "  Seek, 
and  ye  shall  find." 

Thus  tnuch  concernmg  Pliable. — Such  is 
the  career  of  the  unstable  professor — weak, 
impulsive,  and  vacillating  He  sets  out 
with  buoyant  spirits,  and  so  long  as  the  way 
is  easy  and  pleasant,  he  pursues  it  with 
alacrity ;  but  when  trouble  arises  and  diffi- 
culties meet  him,  he  turns  aside  from  Him 
who  alone  can  help,  and,  following  his  own 
devices,  falls  into  a  condition  of  spiritual 
apathy,  which  renders  his  case  even  less 
hopeful  than  it  was  before. 


CHAPTER  III. 


Worldly-wiseman. 

This  Worldly-wiseman  is  Self-Righteousness,  that  glories  in  the  law,  attributes 
nothing  to  grace,  trusts  to  its  own  merit,  and  will  not  accept  the  merits  of  Christ.  This  Self- 
Righteous  spirit  will  stand  beneath  Sinai,  rather  than  look  to  Calvary.  This  legal  religion 
would,  were  it  possible,  work  its  own  way  to  heaven,  and  ignore  the  salvation  that  is  in 
Christ  Jesus. 

^jS  Christian  was  now  walking  solitarily  by  himself,  he 
espied  one  afar  off  come  crossing  over  the  field  to  meet 
him,  and  their  hap  was  to  meet  just  as  they  were  cross- 
ing the  way  of  each  other.  The  gentleman's  name  was 
Mr.  Worldly-wiseman  ;  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Carnal- 
policy,  a  very  great  town,  and  also  hard  by  from  whence  Christian 
came.  This  man  then  meeting  with  Christian,  and  having  some  ink- 
ling of  him,  for  Christian's  setting  forth  from  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion was  much  noised  abroad,  not  only  in  the  town  where  he  dwelt, 
but  also  it  began  to  be  the  town-talk  in  some  other  places.  Master 
Worldly-wiseman,  therefore,  having  some  guess  of  him,  by  beholding 
his  laborious  going,  by  observing  his  sighs  and  groans,  and  the  like, 
began  thus  to  enter  into  some  talk  with  Christian. 

WoR.  How  now,  good  fellow ;  whither  away  after  this  burdened 
manner? 

Chr.  a  burdened  manner  indeed,  as  ever  I  think  poor  creature 
had !  And  whereas  you  ask  me,  Whither  away  ?  I  tell  you.  Sir,  I 
am  going  to  yonder  Wicket-gate  before  me ;  for  there,  as  I  am  in- 
formed, I  shall  be  put  in  a  way  to  be  rid  of  my  heavy  burden. 


Walking  solitarily. — Pliable  has  de- 
parted home  again.  Help,  having  lifted 
the  Pilgrim  from  the  mire,  had  also  departed, 
and  Christian  is  left  alone.  A  Christian 
"  walking  solitarily  "  is  sometimes  a  mark 
for  temptation ;  while,  if  he  would  walk  in 
company  with  a  fellow-Christian,  he  would 
probably  escape  the  temptation.  The 
tempter  ofttimes  selects  our  lonely  moments 
for  his  fiercest  assaults.  When  alone,  the 
Christian  may  be  weak :  in  company  with 
brother  Christians,  he  may  be  very  strong. 
This  was  evidently  a  weak  moment  to  our 


Pilgrim — an  opportunity  for  the  assault  of 
the  evil  one. 

Mr.  Worldly-wiseman. — The  name  is  in- 
tended to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  man ; 
as  the  name  of  his  town.  Carnal-policy,  to 
illustrate  his  origin  and  associations.  This 
is  the  man  that  walks  by  sight,  and  not  by 
faith  ;  talks  presumptuously  of  human  merit, 
ignoring  the  merits  of  Christ ;  clothes  him- 
self in  his  own  righteousness,  refusing  the 
saving  righteousness  of  Jesus.  This  man  is 
of  the  world,  carnally  minded,  legally  dis- 
posed ;  he  is  of  those  that  seek  to   justify 


(49) 


50 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


CHRISTIAN  AND  WORLDLY-WISEMAN. 

WoR.  Hast  thou  a  wife  and  children  ? 

Chr.  Yes ;  but  I  am  so  laden  with  this  burden,  that  I  cannot  take 
that  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly ;  methinks  I  am  as  if  I  had  none 
(Cor.  7:  29). 

WoR.  Wilt  thou  harken  to  me,  if  I  give  thee  counsel? 

Chr.  If  it  be  good,  I  will ;  for  I  stand  in  need  of  good  counsel. 

WoR.  I  would  advise  thee,  then,  that  thou  with  all  speed  get  thyself 
rid  of  thy  burden  ;  for  thou  wilt  never  be  settled  in  thy  mind  till  then  : 
nor  canst  thou  enjoy  the  benefits  of  the  blessings  which  God  has 
bestowed  upon  thee  till  then. 


themselves.  Their  wisdom  is  but  wordly 
wisdom,  and  this  shall  be  outwitted  at  the 
last,  and  utterly  turned  into  foohshness. 
They  that  are  "  wise  after  the  flesh  *'  are  not 
"wise  unto  God." 

Having  some  guess  of  him. — There  were 
certain  marks  and  characteristics  by  which 
Christian  was  recognized  by  Worldly- 
WISEMAN — "by  beholding  his  laborious  go- 
ing, and  by  observing  his  sighs  and  groans." 


Now  these  marks  form  the  direct  contrast  to 
the  spirit  of  the  worldly-wise  man.  He 
evidences  no  "laborious  going;"  his  walk 
is  an  easy-going  career.  If  hardships  should 
arise,  and  "  sighs  and  groans  "  come  at  sea- 
sons, these  troubles  rise  not  from  the  depths 
of  conscience,  but  only  play  upon  the  outei 
surface  of  external  circumstances.  He  can- 
not, therefore,  understand  what  it  is  to  be 
deeply  burdened  with  iniquity  ;  nor  has  he 


Worldly-wiseman  qtiestiofts  Christian. 


5i 


Chr.  That  is  that  which  I  seek  for,  even  to  be  rid  of  this  heavy 
burden  ;  but  get  it  off  myself  I  cannot ;  nor  is  there  any  man  in  our 
country  that  can  take  it  off  my  shoulders ;  therefore  I  am  going  this 
way,  as  I  told  you,  that  I  may  be  rid  of  my  burden. 

WoR.  Who  bid  thee  go  this  way  to  bo  rid  of  thy  burden  ? 

CiiR.  A  man  that  appeared  to  me  a  very  great  and  honorable 
person;  his  name,  as  I  remember,  is  Evangelist. 

WoR.  Beshrew  him  for  his  counsel !  There  is  not  a  more  dan- 
gerous and  troublesome  way  in  the  world  than  is  that  unto  which  he 
hath  directed  thee  ;  and  that  thou  shalt  find  if  thou  wilt  be  ruled  by 
his  counsel.  Thou  hast  met  with  something,  as  I  perceive,  already, 
for  I  see  the  dirt  of  the  Slough  of  Despond  is  upon  thee ;  but  that 
slough  is  the  beginning  of  the  sorrows  that  do  attend  those  that  go 
in  that  way.  Hear  me  :  I  am  older  than  thou.  Thou  art  like  to 
meet  with  on  the  way  which  thou  goest,  wearisomeness,  painfulness, 
hunger,  perils,  nakedness,  sword,  lions,  dragons,  darkness,  and  in  a 
word  death,  and  what  not!  These  things  are  certainly  true,  having 
been  confirmed  by  many  testimonies.  And  why  should  a  man  so 
carelessy  cast  away  himself  by  giving  heed  to  a  stranger? 

Chr.  Why,  Sir,  this  burden  on  my  back  is  more  terrible  to  me  than 
are  all  these  things  which  you  have  mentioned;  nay,  methinks  I  care 
not  what  things  I  meet  with  in  the  way,  if  so  be  I  can  also  meet  with 
deliverance  from  my  burden. 


ever  heaved  a  sign  or  groan  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  sin.  Accordingly,  by  these 
marks  of  heartfeh  penitence,  he  now  dis- 
cerns in  our  Pilgrim  the  man  who  had  set 
forth  from  the  City  of  Destruction. 

Hast  thou  a  wife  and  childreti? — This 
question  is  one  of  those  inquiries  suggested 
by  worldly  wisdom  and  carnal  policy : 
earthly  things  first,  and  then  (if  ever)  heav- 
enly things.  Farm,  merchandise,  wife  and 
children — for  one  or  more  of  these  things 
"  I  pray  thee  have  me  excused  ;  "  as  though 
the  having  of  these  could  ever  constitute  a 
fitting  apology  for  neglecting  the  pilgrimage 
of  Zion. 

The  good  and  pious  Archbishop  Leighton 
was  once  addressed  by  his  married  sister, 
who  was  troubled  about  many  family  cares  : 
"  You  may  serve  God  very  well,  who  have 
no  family  to  occupy  your  thoughts,  nor 
children  to  call  off  your  attention  from  re- 
ligion,'    The  veneralale  prelate  thus  replied, 


in  a  single  text  of  Scripture  :  "  And  Enoch 
walked  with  God,  and  begat  sons  and 
daughters." 

Worldly-wiseman's  question,  then,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  this  great  matter.  Wife 
and  children  were  not  given  us  to  keep  us 
from  God.  Therefore  the  words  of  Christ: 
"  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than 
me,  is  not  worthy  of  me :  and  he  that  loveth 
son  or  daughter  more  than  me,  is  not 
worthy  of  me"  (Matt.  lo:  37). 

Who  bid  thee  go  this  way? — Worldi.v- 
WISEMAN  by  his  questions  evidently  seeks  to 
perplex  the  Pilgrim,  and  to  dissuade  him 
from  his  projected  plan.  He  advises  Chris- 
tian as  soon  as  possible  to  get  rid  of  his 
burden,  but  utterly  repudiates  the  method 
suggested  by  the  good  counsel  of  Evange- 
list. He  has  no  sympathy  with  the  Pilgrinij 
or  with  the  utter  hopelessness  of  h's  condi 
tion,  so  far  as  human  aid  is  concern-pd.  An- 
other way,   ^e  urges,   must  be  tried ;    and 


52 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


WoR.    How  earnest  thou  by  thy  burden  at  first?  . 

Chr.    By  reading  this  book  in  my  hand.  , 

WoR.  1  thought  so :  and  it  has  happened  unto  thee  as  to  other 
weak  men,  who,  meddhng  with  things  too  high  for  them,  do  suddenly 
fall  into  thy  distractions  ;  which  distractions  do  not  only  unman  men 
(as  thine,  I  perceive,  have  done  thee),  but  they  run  them  upon  des- 
perate ventures  to  obtain  they  know  not  what, 

Chr.    I  know  what  I  would  obtain  :  it  is  ease  from  my  heavy  burden. 

WoR.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way,  seeing  so  many 
dangers  attend  it?  especially  since,  hadst  thou  but  patience  to  hear 
me,  I  could  direct  thee  to  the  obtaining  what  thou  desirest,  without 
the  dangers  that  thou  in  this  way  wilt  run  thyself  into.  Yea,  and  the 
remedy  is  at  hand.  Besides  I  will  add,  that  instead  of  these  dangers, 
thou  shalt  meet  with  much  safety,  friendship,  and  content. 
Chr.  Pray,  Sir,  open  this  secret  to  me. 

WoR.  Why,  in  yonder  village  (the  village  is  named  Morality) 
there  dwells  a  gentleman,  whose  name  is  Legality,  a  very  judicious 
man,  and  a  man  of  very  good  name,  that  has  skill  to  help  men  off 
with  such  burdens  as  thine  from  their  shoulders  ;  yea,  to  my  knowl- 
edge, he  hath  done  a  great  deal  of  good  this  way ;  aye,  and  besides, 
he  hath  skill  to  cure  those  that  are  somewhat  crazed  in  their  wits 
with  their  burden.     To  him,  as  I  said,  thou  mayest  go  and  be  helped 


even  brings  up  the  bemired  condition  of 
Christian  from  the  Slough  of  Despond,  as 
a  manifest  proof  that  Evangelist  was 
wrong  in  his  directions ;  and  then,  to  deter 
Christian,  he  speaks  of  all  sorts  of  diffi- 
culties and  dangers ;  but  these  do  not  ter- 
rify the  Pilgrim,  for  he  feels  the  pressure  of 
this  burden  to  be  worse  to  him  than  all  pos- 
sible inconveniences  that  may  arise  in  the 
path. 

How  earnest  thou  by  thy  burden  ? — This  is 
drawing  to  closer  quarters.  The  tempter 
already  sees  that  there  is  a  deep  and  thor- 
ough realization  of  the  weight  and  weari- 
ness of  the  burden.  He  now  seeks  to  re- 
move not  the  burden,  but  the  consciousness 
of  the  burden  And,  first  of  all,  he  attempts 
to  overthrow  the  authority  of  the  Book 
which  has  disclosed  to  the  Pilgrim  the  exist- 
ence and  weight  of  his  sin.  He  talks  at 
random  of  "distractions,"  and  "desperate 
ventures,"  and  such  like;  and  finding  that 
the  burdened  mar>  seeks  rest,  and  must  have 


ease  from  his  burden,  and  will  not  else  be 
satisfied,  Worldly-wiseman  proceeds  to 
suggest  a  false  peace  and  a  rest  which,  after 
all,  can  give  the  guilty  conscience  no  relief. 
He  promises  many  things — ease,  safety, 
friendship  and  contentment. 

Open  this  secret  to  me. — WORLDLY-WISE- 
man  has  gained  the  Pilgrim's  ear,  and  now 
he  delves  deeper,  and  gains  the  Pilgrim's 
heart.  Christian  is  now  hstening  to  the 
counsel  of  the  ungodly.  We  fear  for  the 
result. 

Morality,  Legality,  Civility. — These  are 
the  new  saviours  suggested  by  Worldly- 
wiseman  ;  not  far  off,  easily  found,  and 
prompt  to  ease  the  burden  Pretentious 
promises  !  These  watchwords  are  "  of  the 
earth,  earthy."  They  underrate  the  enor- 
mity of  sin,  depreciate  the  provisions  of 
grace,  and  ignore  the  great  salvation  which 
is  through  Christ  Jesus. 

The  village  of  Morality  is  the  place  where 
the  Pharisee  once  dwelt  (where  Pharisaism 


Christian  beneath  mount  sinai. 


53 


54 


T)ie  Pilgrim  s  P7' ogress. 


presently.  His  house  is  not  quite  a  mile  from  this  place  ;  and  if  he 
should  not  be  at  home  himself,  he  hath  a  pretty  young  man  to  his 
son,  whose  name  is  Civility,  that  can  do  it  (to  speak  on)  as  well  as 
the  old  gentleman  himself.  There,  I  say,  thou  mayest  be  eased  of 
thy  burden;  and  if  thou  art  not  minded  to  go  back  to  thy  former 
habitation,  as  indeed  I  would  not  wish  thee,  thou  mayest  send  for 
thy  wife  and  children  to  thee  to  this  village,  where  there  are  houses 
now  standing  empty,  one  of  which  thou  mayest  have  at  a  reasonable 
rate.  Provision  is  there  also  cheap  and  good  ;  and  that  which  will 
make  thy  life  more  happy  is,  to  be  sure  that  thou  shalt  live  by  honest 
neighbors,  in  credit  and  good  fashion. 

Now  was  Christian  somew^hat  at  a  stand  ;  but  presently  he  con- 
cluded, If  this  be  true  which  this  gentleman  hath  said,  my  wisest 
course  is  to  take  his  advice  :  and  with  that  he  thus  farther  spake. 

Chr.  Sir,  which  is  the  way  to  this  honest  man's  house? 

WoR.   Do  you  see  yonder  hill? 

Chr.  Yes,  very  well. 

WoR.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first  house  you  come 
at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr.   Legality's 


still  dwells),  where  religion  is  a  mere  boast- 
ful profession  —"I  thank  thee  that  1  am  not 
as  other  men  are."  This  religion  sets  up 
claims,  personal  claims,  and  expects  heaven 
by  right  of  labor  done  and  service  rendered. 
It  hides  the  great  truth  of  the  Christian 
revelation,  which  establishes  the  fact  that 
man  is  nothing,  and  that  Christ  is  every- 
thing ';  that  by  grace  we  are  saved,  but  that 
"  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  there  shall  no 
flesh  be  justified  in  his  sight."  Morality 
must  ever  be  a  characteristic  of  the  Chris- 
tian man  ;  but  it  must  not  be  his  resting- 
place,  for  it  is  not  his  salvation.  The  spirit- 
ual hfe  must  rise  higher,  and  live  on  a  better 
principle  than  this  ;  it  must  live  "  by  the 
faith  of  the  Son  of  God."  It  is  not  by  mak- 
ing the  best  of  our  diseased  condition  that 
we  can  obtain  hfe,  but  by  seeing  and  know- 
ing the  worst  of  our  state,  and  then  fleeing 
for  refuge  to  lay  hold  upon  the  hope  -  the 
jnly  hope — that  is  set  before  us. 

The  Christian  practises  morality  and  de- 
lights in  good  works,  not  that  he  may  be  for- 
given, but  because  he  is  forgiven.  Morality 
may  attend  to  the  claims  of  one  man  upon 


another,  and  yet  neglect  the  claims  made  by 
God ;  bu'  faith  works  by  love,  and  strives  to 
be  faithful  to  both  God  and  man. 

Legality  is  the  character  of  the  man  who 
trusts  in  the  law,  and  boasts  of  his  obedi- 
ence to  the  law.  Legality  doth  always  seek 
to  justify  itself,  and  for  this  purpose  rushes 
into  court,  challenging  justice,  and  confront- 
ing the  very  judge  h  mself.  Let  the  man 
who  clings  to  the  law  and  not  to  the  Gospel, 
who  professes  obedience  and  seeks  not 
mercy — let  him  stand  forth  before  God,  and 
see  what  the  law  saith,  and  what  the  law 
can  do !  Prepare  the  line,  make  ready  the 
plummet ;  measure  and  gauge  the  outward 
acts,  the  inward  motives  ;  the  thoughts,  the 
words,  and  the  deeds  of  the  entire  life.  Vou 
have  courted  the  law,  and  you  shall  have  it 
But  remember  the  terms  of  the  law :  on  the 
slightest  deviation  from  perfect  rectitude,  or 
the  least  departure  from  the  line  laid  down, 
your  doom  is  sealed  ;  for  the  law  saith,  "The 
Foul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die."  In  the  soul- 
searching  inquisition  of  this  tribunal  who 
shall  stand  ?  "Judgment  also  will  I  lay  to 
the  line,  and  righteousness  to  the  plummet; 


Christian  wider  Moiird  Sinai. 


55 


house  for  help.  But,  behold,  when  he  was  got  now  hard  by  the  hill, 
it  seemed  so  high,  and  also  that  side  of  it  that  was  next  the  way- 
side did  hang  so  much  over,  that  Christian  was  afraid  to  venture 
further,  lest  the  hill  should  fall  on  his  head  ;  wherefore  there  he  stood 
still,  and  he  wot  not  what  to  do.  Also  his  burden  now  seemed 
heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  the  way.  There  came  also 
flashes  of  fire  out  of  the  hill,  that  made  Christian  afraid  that  he 
should  be  burned ;  here  therefore  he  sweat,  and  did  quake  for  fear 
(Exod.  19:  16-18;  Heb.  12:  21).  And  now  he  began  to  be  sorry 
that  he  had  taken  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman's  counsel.  And  with  that 
he  saw  Evangelist  coming  to  meet  him,  at  the  sight  also  of  whom 
he  began  to  blush  for  shame.  So  Evangelist  drew  nearer  and 
nearer;  and  coming  up  to  him,  he  looked  upon  him  with  a  severe 
and  dreadful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  reason  with  Christian. 
-  What  doest  thou  here?  said  he.  At  which  words  Christian 
knew  not  what  to  answer :  wherefore  at  present  ne  stood  speechless 
before  him.  Then  said  Evangelist  further.  Art  not  thou  the  man 
that  I  found  crying  without  the  walls  of  the  City  of  Destruction  ? 


and  the  hail  shall  sweep  away  the  refuge  of 
lies,  and  the  waters  shall  overflow  the  hiding 
place"  (Isa.  28  :    17). 

WoRLDLY-wiSEMAN,  in  fact,  suggests  self- 
justification  instead  of  self-condemnation  ; 
forgetfulness  of  sin,  instead  of  earnest  search 
for  forgiveness  of  sin ;  the  opiate  of  uncon- 
cern to  lull  the  awakened  soul  to  sleep  ;  the 
flattering  unction  that  will  speak  tenderly  of 
the  wrongdoings  of  the  man,  and  whisper 
peace,  when  there  is  no  peace.  And  this 
he  calls  "  being  eased  of  his  burden  !" 

Christian  somewhat  at  a  stand. — He  has 
been  giving  heed  to  the  counsel  of  the  un- 
godly;  he  now  "  standetk  in  the  way  of 
sinners."  He  inclines  to  evil,  and  he  know- 
eth  it  not. 

"  I  know  not  what  came  o'er  me, 
Nor  who  the  counsel  gave ; 
But  I  must  hasten  downward, 
All  with  my  pilgrim-stave." 

So  Christian  turned. — Yes,  "turned  out 
of  the  way."  He  has  despised  the  counsel 
of  Evangelist  ;  has  followed  the  advice  of 
WoRLDLY-wiSEMAN ;  and  is  now  about  to 
learn  new  experiences.  Instead  of  the 
promised  "ease,"  there  is  greater  weight 
added  to  the  burden;  instead  of  "safety," 


there  is  impending  danger  from  the  over- 
hanging chff ;  instead  of  "  friendship,"  there 
is  the  dismal  lonehness  of  one  who  has  ven- 
tured beyond  the  reach  of  all  human  aid ; 
instead  of  "  contentment,"  the  Pilgrim  is  ill 
at  ease,  standing  amid  the  flashes  of  fiery 
wrath,  and  trembling  and  quaking  for  very 
fear.  Darkness,  fire,  and  tempest  are  the 
companions  of  his  path.  Christian  is  at 
the  base  of  Sinai  !  He  has  come  to  the 
covert  of  the  law,  beneath  the  dark  thunder- 
cloud ;  he  has  come,  with  his  burden,  to  the 
place  of  condemnation.  "  O  wretched  man 
that  I  am  !     Who  shall  deliver  me  ? ' 

A  fid  did  quake  frr  fear. — The  law  gen- 
dereth  to  bondag'-  ;  and  the  spirit  of  bond- 
age is  the  spirit  of  fear.  On  Sinai,  God  is  a 
Judge,  and  man  a  convicted  criminal.  On 
Calvary,  God  is  a  Father,  and  man  the 
adopted  son  of  his  love  ;  and  "  perfect  love 
casteth  out  fear."  Christi.\n  now  finds 
how  true  it  is  that  "  the  way  of  transgressors 
is  hard." 

He  saw  Evangelist  coming. — This  friend 
and  counsellor  has  watched,  as  a  true  min- 
ister always  will,  the  progress  of  the  Pilgrim. 
He  has  seen  him  stopped  in  his  course  by 
WoRLDY-wiSEMAN ;  has  seen  him  lend  his 


66 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Chr.  Yes,  dear  Sir,  I  am  the  man. 

Evan.   Did  I  not  direct  thee  the  way  to  the  httle  wicket-gate? 

Yes,  dear  Sir,  said  Christian. 

Evan.  How  is  it  then  that  thou  art  so  quickly  turned  aside? 
for  thou  art  now  out  of  the  way. 

Chr.  I  met  with  a  gendeman,  so  soon  as  I  had  got  over  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  who  persuaded  me  that  I  might,  in  the  village 
before  me,  find  a  man  that  could  take  off  my  burden. 

Evan.  What  was  he  ? 

Chr.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  talked  much  to  me,  and 
got  me  at  last  to  yield;  so  I  came  hither;  but  when  I  beheld  this  hill, 
and  how  it  hangs  over  the  way,  I  suddenly  made  a  stand,  lest  it 
should  fall  on  my  head. 

Evan.  What  said  that  gentleman  to  you  ? 

Chr.  Why,  he  asked  me   whither  I  was  going  ;   and  I  told  him. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  a  family,  and  I  told  him :  but,  said 
I,  I  am  so  loaded  with  the  burden  that  is  on  my  back,  that  I  cannot 
take  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden,  and  I  told  him 
it  was  ease  that  I  sought ;  and,  said  I,  I  am  therefore  going  to  yon- 
der gate  to  receive  further  direction  how  I  may  get  to  the  place  of 
deliverance.  So  he  said  that  he  would  show  me  a  better  way,  and 
shorter,  not  so  attended  with  difficulties  as  the  way,  Sir,  that  you  set 
me  in  ;  which  way,  said  he,  will  direct  you  to  a  gentleman's  house 


ears  and  heart  to  the  voice  of  temptation  ; 
has  seen  him  take  the  wrong  direction,  for- 
saking the  path  of  safety  ;  and  now  he  fol- 
lows him  into  the  very  midst  of  his  danger, 
once  more  to  advise  and  counsel  him. 
Thank  God  for  his  appointed  EvangeHsts, 
who  minister  to  us  in  holy  things ! 

What  doe<it  thou  here,  Christian  ? — This 
was  not  the  path  or  the  destination  pointed 
out  by  Evangelist  in  his  former  conversa- 
tion ;  it  is,  indeed,  the  very  opposite.  Evan- 
gelist had  set  before  him  his  blessing,  and 
he  had  chosen  cursing  instead.  Therefore, 
"with  a  severe  and  dreadful  countenance," 
he  asks  an  account  of  this  far-gone  devia- 
tion from  the  right  way,  and  the  Pilgrim  for 
a  time  is  "speechless."  He  is  lost  in  the 
fears  and  alarms  of  the  place ;  lost  in  the 


sense  of  his  own  inconsistency ;  lost  in  the 
consciousness  of  his  fearful  mistake  ;  lost  in 
the  shame  and  confusion  that  cover  his  face, 
when  thus  discovered  far  from  the  path  al- 
ready prescribed  for  him  by  the  faithful 
Evangelist. 

Lest  it  should  fall  on  my  head. — The  law- 
is  ever  threatening,  always  impending  ;  it  is 
like  a  drawn  sword  hanging  overhead,  sus- 
pended by  a  single  hair  He  that  takes 
refuge  beneath  this  overhanging  wrath,  will 
find  how  the  law  can  convince  of  sin  and 
punish  sin,  but  cannot  take  it  away  ;  it  can 
increase  the  burden,  but  cannot  lighten  it. 
The  law  is  a  schoolmaster,  and  its  teaching 
rightly  understood  leads  to  Christ ;  but  it  is 
Christ  alone,  and  not  the  law,  that  taketh 
away  sin. 


Evangelist  instructs  Christian. 


67 


CHRISTIAN  AT  THE  WICKET-GATE. 


that  hath  skill  to  take  all  these  burdens.  So  I  believed  hipii,  and 
turned  out  of  that  way  into  this,  if  haply  I  might  be  soon  eased  of 
my  burden  ;  but  when  I  came  to  this  place,  and  beheld  things  as 
they  are,  I  stopped  for  fear,  as  I  said,  of  danger ;  but  now  I  know 
not  what  to  do. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  Stand  still  a  litde,  that  I  may  show  thee 
the  words  of  God.  So  he  stood  trembling.  Then  said  Evangelist, 
"  See  that  ye  refuse  not  him  that  speaketh.  For  if  they  escaped  not 
who  refused  him  that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not  we 
escape,  if  we  turn  away  from  him  that  speaketh  from  heaven."  He 
said,  moreover,  "  Now  the  just  shall  live  by  faith :  but  if  any  man 
draw  back,  my  soul  shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him."  (Heb.  12  :  25  ; 
10:  38).  He  also  did  thus  apply  them :  Thou  art  the  man  that  art 
running  into  this  misery.    Thou  hast  begun  to  reject  the  counsel  of 


5.< 


The  Pilgrinis  Progress. 


th*:  Most  High,  and  to  draw  back  thy  foot  from  the  way  of  peace, 
even  almost  to  the  hazarding  of  thy  perdition. 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  feet  as  dead,  crying,  Woe  is  me, 
for  I  am  undcjrie.  At  the  sight  of  which  Evangelist  caught  him  by 
the  right  hand,  saying,  "  All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  sb.all  be 
forgiven  unto  men:"  "Be  not  faithless,  but  believing"  (Matt.  12: 
31;  John  20:  27).  Then  did  Christian  again  a  little  revive,  and 
stood  up  trembling,  as  at  first,  before  Evangelist. 

Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying.  Give  more  earnest  heed  to 
the  things  that  I  shall  tell  thee  of.  I  will  now  show  thee  who  it  was 
that  deluded  thee,  and  who  it  was  also  to  whom  he  sent  thee.  The 
man  that  met  thee  is  one  Worldly-wiseman,  and  rightly  is  he  so 
called ;  partly  because  he  savoreth  only  the  doctrine  of  this  world 
(i  Joh!\  4:5)  (therefore  he  always  goes  to  the  town  of  Morality  to 
church);  and  partly  because  he  loveth  that  doctrine  best,  for  it 
saveth  him  from  the  cross  (Gal.  6:  12);  and  because  he  is  of  this 
carnal  temper ;  therefore  he  seeketh  to  pervert  my  ways,  though 
right.  Now  there  are  three  things  in  this  man's  counsel  that  thou 
must  utterly  abhor:  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way;  his  labor- 
ing to  render  the  cross  odious  to  thee  ;  and  his  setting  thy  feet  in 
that  way  that  leadeth  unto  the  ministration  of  death. 

First,  thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way ;  yea, 
and  thy  own  consenting  thereto;  because  this  is  to  reject  the  coun- 
sel of  God  for  the  counsel  of  a  Worldly-wiseman.  The  Lord  says, 
"  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  straight  gate  "  (the  gate  to  which  I  sent 
thee)  ;  "  for  straight  is  the  gate  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there 
be  that  find  it"  (Matt.  7:  13,14;  Luke  13:  24).  From  this  little 
wicket-gate,  and  from  the  way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned 
thee,  to  the  bringing  of  thee  almost  to  destruction  ;  hate  therefore 
his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and  abhor  thyself  for  hearkening 
to  him. 

Secondly,  thou  must  abhor  his  laboring  to  render  the  cross 
odious  unto  thee ;  for  thou  art  to  prefer  it  before  the  treasures  of 
EgA'pt;  besides,  the  King  of  Glory  hath  told  thee,  "he  that  will 
save  his  life  shall  lose  it"  (Heb.  11:  25,  26);  and  "he  that  comes 
after  him,  and  hates  not  his  father  and  mother,  and  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  brethren  and  sisters,  yea  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot 


A  better  way,  and  shorter. — This  was  the 
tempting  offer  of  Worldly-wiseman  to  the 
Pilgrim ;  and  it  is  a  temptation   still  in  the 


way  of  thousands.  But  there  is  only  one 
way,  and  therefore  there  can  be  no  better 
and  no  shorter  road.     If  the  Pilgrims  of  Zion 


GOODWILL  SHOWS  CHRISTIAN  THE  WAY. 


59     . 


60 


The  Pi/o-rints  Procress. 


be  my  disciple"  (Matt.  lo  :  39;  Mark  8:  35;  Luke  14:  26;  John 
12  :  25).  I  say,  therefore,  for  a  man  to  labor  to  persuade^  thee  that 
that  shall  be  thy  death,  without  which  the  Truth  hath  said  thou  canst 
not  have  eternal  life ;  this  doctrine  thou  must  abhor. 

Thirdly,  thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in  the  way  that 
leadeth  to  the  ministration  of  death.  And  for  this  thou  must  con- 
sider to  whom  he  sent  thee,  and  also  how  unable  that  person  was  to 
deliver  thee  from  thy  burden.  He  to  whom  thou  wast  sent  for  ease, 
being  by  name  Legality,  is  the  son  of  the  bond-woman,  "which  now 
is,  and  is  in  bondage  with  her  children"  (Gal.  4:  22 --27) ;  and  is  in 
a  mystery  this  Mount  Sinai,  which  thou  hast  feared  will  fall  on  thy 
head.  Now,  if  she  with  her  children  are  in  bondage,  how  canst  thou 
expect  by  them  to  be  made  free  ?  This  Legality,  therefore,  is  not 
able  to  set  thee  free  from  thy  burden.  No  man  v/as  as  yet  ever  rid 
of  his  burden  by  him  ;  no,  nor  ever  is  like  to  be:  "Ye  cannot  be 
justified  by  the  works  of  the  law  ;  for  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man 
living"  can  be  rid  of  his  burden;  therefore  Mr.  V/orldly-wiseman  is 
an  alien,  and  Mr.  Legality  a  cheat;  and  asfor  his  son  Civility,  not- 
withstanding his  simpering  looks,  he  is  but  a  hypocrite,  and  cannot 
help  thee.  Believe  me,  there  is  nothing  else  in  all  this  noise  that  thou 
hast  heard  of  this  sottish  man,  but  a  design  to  beguile'  thee  of  thy  sal- 
vation, by  turning  thee  from  the  way  which  I  had  set  thee.  After  this. 
Evangelist  called  aloud  to  the  heavens  for  confirmation  of  what  he 
had  said  ;  and  with  that  there  came  words  and  fire  out  of  the  moun- 
tain, under  which  poor  Christian  stood,  that  made  the  hair  of  his 
flesh  stand  up.  The  words  were  thus  pronounced:  "As  many  as 
are  of  the  works  of  the  law  are  under  the  curse ;  for  it  is  written, 
Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are  writ- 
ten in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them"  (Gal.  3  :   10). 

New  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and  began  to  cry 
out  lamentably,  even  cursing  the  time  in  which  he  met  with  Mr. 
Worldly-wiseman  ;  still  calling  himself  a  thousand  fools  for  hearken- 
ing to  his  counsel ;  he  also  was  greatly  ashamed  to  think  that  this 


seek  a  Crown,  they  must  go  by  the  way  of 
the  Cross  ;  if  they  seek  a  triumph,  they  must 
fight  their  way  through  the  battle-field. 
,  There  came  words  and  fire. — The  voice  of 
the  law  is  its  own  confirmation.  The  law's 
demands  are  great  and  large — "all  the 
heart,  all  the  soul,  all  the  mind,  all  the 
strength  ;"  continuance  "  in  a// things  which 


are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do 
them."  If  this  full  and  undivided  allegiance 
be  not  rendered,  the  law  utters  its  curse 
against  the  rebels.  And  as  none  can  ren- 
der this  complete  obedience  and  this  unsin- 
ning  service,  the  result  is  that  "  as  many  as 
are  of  the  works  of  the  law,  are  under  the 
curse"  (Gal.  3  :  10). 


Christian  under  Mou7it  Sinai. 


61 


gentleman's  arguments,  following  only  from  the  flesh,  should  have 
that  prevalency  with  him  to  forsake  the  right  way.  This  done,  he 
applied  himself  again  to  Evangelist  in  words  and  sense  as  follows  : 

Chr.  Sir,  what  think  you  ?  Is  there  hope  ?  May  I  now  go 
back  and  go  up  to  the  Wicket-gate  ?  Shall  I  not  be  abandoned  for 
this,  and  sent  back  from  thence  ashamed?  lam  sorry  I  have  heark- 
ened to  this  man's  counsel ;  but  may  my  sin  be  forgiven  ? 

Then  said  Evangelist  to  him,  Thy  sin  is  very  great,  for  by  it 
thou  hast  committed  two  evils ;  thou  hast  forsaken  the  way  that  is 
good,  to  tread  in  forbidden  paths  ;  yet  will  the  man  at  the  gate 
receive  thee,  for  he  has  goodwill  for  men  ;  only,  said  he,  take  heed 
that  thou  turn  not  aside  again,  "lest  thou  perish  from  the  way,  when 
his  wrath  is  kindled  but  a  litde"  (Ps  2:  12).  Then  did  Christian 
address  himself  to  go  back,  and  Evangelist,  after  he  had  kissed  him, 
gave  him  one  smile,  and  bid  him  God-speed. 

Sir,  is  there  hope  ? — Yes,  there  is  hope.  1  from  thence  to  the  Cross,  there  is  hope,  good 
If  the  man  will  but  flee  from  the  law  to  I  hope ;  hope  increasing  more  and  more  at 
grace,  from  Sinai  to  the  \^lket-ffate,  and   \  every  onward  step  of  the  Pilgrim. 


HYPOCRISY. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Wicket-gate. 

The  Wicket-gate  constitutes  one  of  the  main  features  of  the  great  Dreamer's  A»  !*gory. 
It  is  an  end,  and  it  is  a  beginning.  It  concludes  the  Pilgrim's  search  for  the  better  patb,  and 
inaugurates  his  entrance  upon  the  King's  highway — the  way  of  holiness.  It  c1oK;s  upon 
the  weary  wilderness  of  doubt  and  ignorance  in  which  he  wandered,  wept,  and  t'-Embled, 
and  opens  upon  the  road  that  conducts  all  faithful  pilgrims  to  the  Celestial  City. 

This  is  the  "  good  news  "  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  the  "  weary  and  heavy-laden '  that  are 
bid  to  come — under  the  weight  and  consciousness  of  sin ;  and  these  entering  in  by  Jesus 
Christ,  "the  Door,"  and  being  instructed  by  the  Spirit's  teaching,  are,  some  soo  «.er,  some 
later,  conducted  to  the  assurance  of  pardon  and  the  fulness  of  forgiving  love 

|0  Christian  went  on  with  haste,  neither  spake  he  to  any 
man  by  the  way  ;  nor  if  any  man  asked  him,  would  he 
vouchsafe  him  an  answer.  He  went  hke  one  thcit  was 
all  the  while  treading  on  forbidden  ground,  and  could  by 
no  means  think  himself  safe,  till  again  he  was  got  into 
the  way  which  he  left  to  follow  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman's  counsel ;  so 
in  process  of  time  Christian  got  up  to  the  gate.  Now  over  the  gate 
there  was  written,  "Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you" 
(Matt.  7:7)-  He  knocked,  therefore,  more  than  once  or  twice, 
saying, 

"  May  I  now  enter  here  ?  will  he  within 
Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I  have  been 
An  undeserving  rebel  ?  then  shall  I 
Not  fail  to  sing  his  lasting  praise  on  high." 

At  last  there  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named  Goodwill, 
who  asked,  who  was  there  ?  and  whence  he  came  ?  and  what  he 
would  have  ? 

Chr.  Here  is  a  poor  burdened  sinner ;  I  come  from  the  City 
of  Destruction,  but  am  going  to  Mount  Zion,  that  I  may  be  delivered 
from  the  wrath  to  come.     I  would,  therefore,  Sir,  since  I  am  informed 


"  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened." — At  the 
Wicket-gate  the  penitent  Pilgrim  knocks, 
and  in  faii.h  knocks  again,  and  still  con- 
tinues to  knock,  until  it  is  opened  to  him  by 

(62) 


Goodwill,  the  porter  of  the  gate — for  to 
such  "the  porter  openeth  "  (John   10:   3). 

Good-will. — Most    suitable   name  for    the 
porter  of  the  Wicket-gate.      "  Goodwill  to- 


Christian  arrives  at  the   Wicket-gate, 


63 


that  by  this  gate  is  the  way  thither,  know  if  you  are  wilHng  to  let 
me  in. 

I  am  wilHng  with  all  my  heart,  said  he ;  and  with  that  he 
opened  the  gate. 

So  when  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave  him  a  pull. 
Then  said  Christian,  What  means  that?  The  other  told  him,  A 
little  distance  from  this  gate  there  is  erected  a  strong  castle,  of  which 
Beelzebub  is  the  .:aptain ;  from  thence  both  he  and  they  that  a-e 
with  him  shoot  arrows  at  them  that  come  up  to  this  gate,  if  haply 
they  may  die  before  they  enter  in.  Then  said  Christian,  I  rejoice 
and  tremble.  So  when  he  was  got  in,  the  man  of  the  gate  asked 
him,  who  directed  him  thither? 

Chr.  Evangelist  bid  me  come  hither  and  knock,  as  I  did  ;  and 
he  said  that  you.  Sir,  would  tell  me  what  I  must  do. 

Good.    "An    open    door   is    set   before  thee,  and   no   man  can 


Now  I  begin  to  reap  the  benefit  of  my  hazards. 

But  how  is  it  that  you  came  alone  ? 
Because  none  of  my  neighbors    saw  their   danger  as  1 


shut  it." 

Chr. 

Good 

Chr, 
saw  mine. 

Good.    Did  any  of  them  know  of  your  coming  ? 

Chr.  Yes ;  my  wife  and  children  saw  me  at  the  first,  and 
called  after  me  to  turn  again.  Also  some  of  my  neighbors  stood 
crying  and  calling  after  me  to  return  ;  but  I  put  my  fingers  in  my 
ears,  and  so  came  on  my  way. 

Good.  But  did  none  of  them  follow  you  to  persuade  you  to  go 
back? 

Chr.  Yes,  both  Obstinate  and  Pliable  ;  but  when  they  saw  that 
they  could  not  prevail.  Obstinate  went  railing  back ;  but  Pliable 
came  with  me  a  little  way. 

Good.    But  why  did  he  not  come  through  ? 

Chr.  We  indeed  came  both  together  until  we  came  to  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  into  the  which  he  also  suddenly  fell ;  and  then 


ward  men  "  is  part  of  the  definition  of  the 
Gospel.  All  are  invited,  and  all  who  accept 
the  invitation  are  welcome. 

Gav  him  a  pull. — Christian  has  es- 
caped the  dangers  of  Destruction,  Despond, 
and  Sinai  Yet  there  is  danger  still — yea, 
even  to  the  very  threshold  of  the  gate.  The 
whole  range  of  its  vicinity  is  liable  to  assault 


from  Beelzebub,  whose  fiery  darts  fly  thick 
and  fast  at  this  critical  point  of  the  pilgrim- 
age. A  burdened  sinner,  seeking  the  Sav 
iour,  is  the  very  mark  that  Satan  hastes  to 
assail.  Hence  the  kind  intervention  of 
Goodwill  The  penitent  sinner  is  "  as  a 
brand  plucked  from  the  burning." 

Young   pilgrims  of  Zion,  be  comforted ! 


64 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


was  my  neighbor  Pliable  discouraged,  and  would  net  adventure 
further.  Wherefore,  getting  out  again  on  that  side  next  to  his  own 
house,  he  told  me,  I  should  possess  the  brave  country  alone  for  him. 
So  he  went  his  way,  and  I  came  mine ;  he  after  Obstinate,  and  I  to 
this  gate. 

Then  said  Goodwill,  Alas  !  poor  man  !  is  the  celestial  glory  of 
so  small  esteem  with  him,  that  he  counteth  it  not  worth  running  the 
hazard  of  a  few  difficulties  to  obtain  it? 

Truly,  said  Christian,  I  have  said  the  truth  of  Pliable  ;  and,  if  I 
should  also  say  the  truth  of  myself,  it  will  appear  there  is  no  better- 
ment betwixt  him  and  myself.  It  is  true  he  went  back  to  his  house, 
but  I  also  turned  aside  to  go  in  the  way  of  death,  being  persuaded 
thereto  by  the  carnal  arguments  of  one  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman. 

Good.  Oh,  did  he  light  upon  you  ?  What,  he  would  have  had 
you  have  sought  for  ease  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Legality ;  they  are 
both  of  them  a  very  cheat.      But  did  you  take  this  counsel? 

Chr.  Yes,  as  far  as  I  durst.  I  went  to  find  out  Mr.  Legality, 
until  I  thought  that  the  mountain  that  stands  by  his  house  would 
have  fallen  upon  my  head ;  wherefore  there  I  was  forced  to  stop. 

Good.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many,  and  will  be 
the  death  of  many  more  ;  it  is  well  you  escaped  being  dashed  in 
pieces  by  it. 

Chr.  Why,  truly  I  do  not  know  what  had  become  of  me  there, 
had  not  Evangelist  happily  met  me  again  as  I  was  musing  in  the 
midst  of  my  dumps;  but  it  was  God's  mercy  that  he  came  to  me 
again,  for  else  I  had  never  come  hither.  But  now  I  am  come,  such 
a  one  as  I  am,  more  fit  indeed  for  death  by  that  mountain,  than  thus 
to  stand  talking  with  my  Lord.  But,  oh  !  what  a  favor  is  this  to  me, 
that  yet  I  am  admitted  entrance  here  ! 

Good,  We  make  no  objections  against  any,  notwithstanding  all 
they  have  done  before  they  come  hither;  "they  in  no  wise  are  cast 
out"  (John  6  :  2)1^\  "^^^  therefore,  good  Christian,  come  a  little  way 
with  me,  and  I  will  teach  thee  about  the  way  thou  must  go.     Look 


How  oft  have  you  felt  the  flying  arrows  of 
the  Wicked  One,  just  as  you  were  about  to 
commit  yourselves  to  the  way  of  righteous- 
ness. When  you  stood,  and  argued,  and 
reasoned,  and  sought  to  makeup  your  mind 
to  cast  in  your  lot  with  those  who  are  jour- 
neying Zionward,  how  Satan  has  withstood 
you,  resisted  you.  assailed  you  !      He  has 


whispered  doubts  about  yourself — as  to  your 
fitness  to  come  at  all ;  doubts  about  God — - 
as  to  his  willingness  to  save.  These  are  the 
fiery  darts  of  the  Wicked  One.  But  as  there 
will  by-and-by  be  given  you  the  shield  of 
faith  to  quench  these  dans,  so,  now  that  you 
are  defenceless,  Goodwill  plucks  yc  u  from 
the  danger,  and  pulls  you  in. 


Christimt  and  Goodwill. 


65 


INTERPRETER  SHOWS  CHRISTIAN  THE  ROOM  FULL  OF  DUST 

before  thee  ;  dost  thou  see  this  narrow  way  ?  That  is  the  way  thou 
must  go.  It  was  cast  up  by  the  patriarchs,  prophets,  Christ,  and  his 
apostles,  and  it  is  as  straight  as  a  rule  can  make  it.  This  is  the 
way  thou  must  go. 

But,  said  Christian,  are  there  no  turnings  or  windings,  by  which 
a  stranger  may  lose  the  way  ? 


This  is  the  way. — Once  within  the  gate, 
fid  willing  to  proceed,  the  Pilgrim  is  directed 
as  to  the  way,  and  the  nature  of  the  road. 
It  is  the  king's  highway,  that  has  been  made 
by  God  in  Christ,  before  the  foundation  of 
the  world,  and  since  trodden  into  a  beaten 
Hack  by  patriarchs,  prophets,  and  apostles, 
fhe  turnings  and  twistings  belong  not  to  the 
road,  but  to  the  devious  paths  that  lead  out 


of  it ;  and  these  are  not  narrow,  but  wide  ; 
not  straight,  but  crooked. 

The  Pilgrim  now  girds  up  his  loins  for  the 
journey.  Having  entered  upon  a  godly 
course  of  life,  he  must  first  receive  Christian 
instruction  ;  and  so,  to  the  house  of  the  In- 
terpreter, where  we  shall  see  "  excellent 
things." 


66 


The  Pitgrim's  Progress. 


Good.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  butt  down  upon  this,  and 
they  are  crooked  and  wide  ;  but  thus  thou  mayest  distinguish  the 
right  from  the  wrong,  that  only  being  straight  and  narrow. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  asked  him  further,  if  he 
could  not  help  him  off  with  his  burden  that  was  upon  his  back;  for 
as  yet  he  had  not  got  rid  thereof,  nor  could  he  by  any  means  get  it 
off  without  help.  He  told  him,  As  to  thy  burden,  be  content  to  bear 
it,  until  thou  comest  to  the  place  of  deliverance ;  for  there  it  will 
fall  from  thy  back  itself. 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address  him- 
self to  his  journey.  So  the  other  told  him,  that  by  that  he  was  gone 
some  distance  from  the  gate  he  would  come  at  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter,  at  whose  door  he  should  knock  ;  and  he  would  show  him 
excellent  things.  Then  Christian  took  his  leave  of  his  friend,  and 
he  again  bid  him  God-speed. 


FORMALIST. 


CHAPTER  V. 


The  Interpreter's  House. 

A  BRILLIANT  scenc  here  opens  before  us :  the  "  Glorious  Dreamer  "  passes  in  review 
through  chambers  of  imagery,  and  in  the  rapt  vision  of  his  soul  he  sees  the  innermost  experien- 
ces of  most  men,  and  forms  those  marvellous  conceptions  of  the  spiritual  life,  which  border  so 
nearly  on  the  Unseen.  Peculiar  revelations  are  here  vouchsafed  to  the  man  of  God  ;  and 
in  the  Interpreter's  House  are  contained  some  of  the  boldest  displays  of  his  lofty  genius, 
and  some  of  the  brightest  imaginings  of  his  spiritually-instructed  mind. 


HEN  he  went  on  till  he  came  at  the  house  of  the  Inter- 
preter, where  he  knocked  over  and  over ;  at  last  one 
came  to  the  door,  and  asked  who  was  there  ? 

Chr.  Sir,  here  is  a  traveller,  who  was  bid  by  an 
acquaintance  of  the  good  man  of  the  house  to  call  here  for 
my  profit ;  I  would  therefore  speak  with  the  master  of  the  house. 
So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  after  a  little  time,  came 
to  Christian,  and  asked  him  what  he  would  have? 

Sir,  said  Christian,  I  am  a  man  that  am  come  from  the  City  of 
Destruction,  and  am  going  to  the  Mount  Zion  ;  and  I  was  told  by 
the  man  that  stands  at  the  gate  at  the  head  of  this  way,  that  if  I 
called  here  you  would  show  me  excellent  things,  such  as  would  be 
a  help  to  me  in  my  journey. 


The  House  of  the  Interpreter. — The  whole 
chapter  is  a  description  of  the  Christian 
Pilgrim  seeking  and  obtaining  hght,  and 
knowledge,  and  instruction,  from  the  source 
of  all  Christian  teaching — the  Holy  Spirit. 
It  is  the  office  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  reveal 
God's  mind  and  will,  and  to  explain  and 
interpret  the  will  and  mind  of  God  to  men  : 
"  He  shall  receive  of  mine,  and  shall  show 
it  unto  you"  (John  i6:  14).  The  house  of 
the  Interpreter  is  the  treasure-house  of 
experience,  where  are  stored  up  all  God's 
provisions,  and  providences,  and  dealings 
with  men.  Out  of  this  storehouse  the 
Spirit  bestows — according  to  our  wants,  our 
asking,   and   our   use   of    supplies   already 


given — "grace  for  grace."  It  is  the  shed- 
ding of  Divine  light,  and  the  pouring  0/ 
Divine  love,  and  the  communication  of" 
Divine  knowledge,  into  our  hearts.  God 
was  once  revealed  to  man  in  the  person  o^ 
his  Son  ;  he  is  now  revealed  to  our  hearti- 
in  the  power  of  his  Spirit. 

He  knocked  over  and  over. — To  this  tl/ 
command  apphes,  "Ask,  a.id  ye  shall  re- 
ceive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and 
it  shall  be  opened  unto  you."  Here  is  the 
progression — Ask  ;  seek  ;  knock.  Each  one 
of  these  successive  steps  involves  more 
energy  and  earnestness  than  that  which  has 
preceded  it.  The  Pilgrim  has  "  asked"  the 
way  to  further  instruction  ;  he  has  "  sought" 


(ff7) 


68 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Then,  said  the  Interpreter,  Come  in  ;  I  will  show  thee  that 
which  will  be  profitable  to  thee.  So  he  commanded  his  man  to  light 
the  candle,  and  bid  Christian  follow  him  ;  so  he  had  him  into  a 
private  room,  and  bid  his  man  open  a  door,  the  v/hich  when  he 
had  done.  Christian  saw  the  picture  of  a  very  grave  person  hang  up 
against  the  wall,  and  this  was  the  fashion  of  it :  It  had  eyes  lifted  up 
\.o  heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  his  hand,  the  law  of  truth  was  written 
upon  its  lips,  the  world  was  behind  his  back,  it  stood  as  if  it  pleaded 
with  men,  and  a  crown  of  gold  did  hang  over  his  head. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

Inter.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  one  of  a  thousand  ; 
he  can  beget  children,  travail  in  birth  with  children,  and  nurse  them 
himself  when  they  are  born  (i  Cor.  4:  15  ;  Gal,  4:  19  ;  i  Thess.  2  : 
7).  And,  whereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lift  up  to  heaven, 
the  best  of  books  in  his  hand,  and  the  law  of  truth  writ  on  his  lips, 
it  is  to  show  thee,  that  his  work  is  to  know  and  unfold  dark  things 
to  sinners,  even  as  also  thou  seest  him  stand  as  if  he  pleaded  with 
men ;  and,  whereas  thou  seest  the  world  as  cast  behind  him,  and  that 
a  crown  hangs  over  his  head ;  that  is  to  show  thee,  that  slighting  and 
despising  the  things  that  are  present,  for  the  love  that  he  hath  to  his 
Master's  service,  he  is  sure  in  the  world  that  comes  next  to  have 


that  way,  and  has  found  it;  he  has 
'  knocked"  at  the  door  of  the  Spirit,  and  it 
is  opened  to  him. 

"  Come  in." — The  House  of  the  Inter- 
preter, as  the  Dwelling-place  of  the  Spirit, 
is  the  House  of  Call  for  all  nations  ;  and  all 
that  come  are  welcome.  "  Here  is  a  t.a  el- 
ler  " — such  was  the  brief  statement  of  the 
Pilgrim's  qualification,  by  which  1  e  sought 
to  find  refreshment  on  the  way  "  from  the 
City  of  Destruction  to  the  Mount  Zion." 
The  hungry  traveller  calls  there  for  bread, 
and  the  thirsty  one  asks  there  for  spiritual 
drink.  The  weary  and  fainting  soul  ad- 
mitted there,  is  fanned  by  the  breeze  of  the 
Spirit,  and  revives  The  toil-worn  and 
weather-beaten  traveller  there  finds  rest,  re- 
freshment and  repose ;  ^nd,  renewed  in 
strength,  he  goes  on  his  way  rejoicing.  Bless 
the  L.ord,  O  my  soul,  tor  the  comforting  and 
refreshing  of  the  Spirit,  and  for  these  cham- 
bers of  imagery  that  enlighten  the  eyes,  and 
instruct  the  heart,  and  make  known  to  the 
Pilgrim  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the    doubts, 


the  dangers,  and  the  difficulties  of  the  way 
of  the  pilgrimage ! 

"God's  Interpreter  art  Thou, 
To  the  waiting  ones  bf  low  ; 
'Twi.xt  them  and  its  Hght  mid-way 
Heralding  the  better  day." 

He  commanded  to  light  a  candle. — All  is 
dark  in  the  chambers  of  the  soul,  until  the 
candle  of  the  Lord  is  lighted  in  our  hearts. 
It  is  in  the  spiritual  as  it  was  in  the  natural 
creation — "  Darkness  was  upon  the  face  of 
the  deep.  And  the  Spirit  of  God  moved 
upon  the  face  of  the  waters.  And  God  said. 
Let  there  be  light!"  Happy  is  the  man 
who  can  say  as  with  the  Psalmist,  "  For 
thou  wilt  light  my  candle  ;  the  Lord  my  God 
will  enlighten  my   darkness"  (Ps.    i8:   28). 

The  "candle"  is  lighted;  a  "door"  is 
opened;  and  that  door  conducts  to  a  "  pri- 
vate room  "  Here,  eveiy  word  is  of  weight, 
and  suggests  volumes  of  experience.  The 
representation  here  is  of  man's  soul,  as  a 
dark  place,  its  doors  and  windows  closed. 
It  is  the  secret  chamber,  the  private  room, 


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70 


The  PiCgrinis  Progress. 


glory  for  his  reward.  Now,  said  the  Interpreter,  I  have  showed  thee 
this  picture  first,  because  the  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  the  only 
man  whom  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  thou  art  going  hath  author- 
ized to  be  thy  guide  in  all  difficult  places  thou  mayest  meet  with  in 
the  way  ;  wherefore  take  good  heed  to  what  I  have  showed  thee,  and 
bear  well  in  thy  mind  what  thou  hast  seen;  lest,  in  thy  journey,  thou 
meet  with  some  that  pretend  to  lead  thee  right,  but  their  way  goes 
down  to  death. 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  very  large  par- 
lor that  was  full  of  dust,  because  never  swept;  the  which,  after  he 
had  reviewed  a  little  while,  the  Interpreter  called  for  a  man  to  sweep. 
Now  when  he  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  began  so  abundantly  to  fly 
about,  that  Christian  had  almost  therewith  been  choked.  Then  said 
the  Interpreter  to  a  damsel  that  stood  by,  Bring  hither  the  water,  and 
sprmkle  the  room;  which  when  she  had  done,  it  was  swept' and 
cleansed  with  pleasure. 


where  the  Spirit  now  holds  intercourse  with 
man  ;  but  first  the  door  must  be  opened,  and 
the  darkness  illumined  by  the  bright  shining 
of  the  candle.  "  The  entrance  of  thy  words 
giveth  light"  (Ps.  119:  130). 

The  Picture — The  first  revelation  of  the 
Spirit  to  tlie  burdened  Pilgrim  is  as  to  the 
true  charac'er  of  a  servant  of  God,  to 
minister  to  him  in  the  things  of  God.  The 
Spirit  fits  and  prepares  his  servants,  and 
honors  the  faithful  labor  of  those  who  go 
forth  as  his  disciples  to  be  the  teachers  of 
his  tiu  h. 

Space  would  fail  us  to  set  forth  these 
glorious  dreams  in  the  fulness  of  their 
meaning.  They  need  meditation  and  con- 
templation, the  bringing  of  the  mind's  eye 
to  bear  upon  the  bold  outline,  and  the  power 
of  Christian  experience  to  fill  up  the  finer 
tints  that  go  to  make  up  the  perfection  of 
each  picture.  Here  is  the  minister  of  Christ 
as  he  ought  co  be :  "  Eyes  lifted  up  to 
heaven  '"—heavenly-minded,  looking  toward 
that  place  whither  he  would  lead  the  flock. 
From  earth  to  heaven  his  office  tends,  and 
he,  with  purpose  fixed,  earnest  and  intent 
on  yonder  home-- 

"Allures  to  brigliter  worlds,  and  leads  the  way." 

"The   best    of    books    in    his    hand" — the 
Bible,  from  whence  he  himself  derives  the 


truth,  and  knows  the  mind  of  God ;  and 
therefore,  from  it  alone  can  he  impart  Divine 
knowledge  to  the  people.  "The  law  of 
truth  upon  its  lips  " — no  uncertain  sound,  or 
doubtful  utterance  of  the  oracle ;  seeing  that 
he  is  a  guide,  an  adviser,  a  shepherd,  naught 
else  but  Truth  upon  his  hps  can  suffice  for 
the  safe  leading  of  the  sheep.  "  The  world 
behind  his  back  " — not  the  foreground,  but 
the  background  of  the  picture,  is  the  world. 
How  disinterested,  how  unworldly,  how  self- 
denying,  should  the  Gospel  minister  be,  with 
earth  kept  ever  back,  and  heaven  kept  full 
in  view.  "  It  pleaded  with  men  " — in  all 
the  earnestness  of  one  who  doth  "beseech 
men,"  so  blind  and  deaf  and  dead  to  their 
own  true  interests,  that  they  may  be  recon- 
ciled unto  God.  With  an  essential  truth,  a 
message  for  life  or  death,  and  eternity  de- 
pending on  the  issue,  how  can  the  servant 
of  God  do  aught  else  than  "  plead "  with 
men  ?  "A  crown  of  gold  over  his  head  " — 
the  reward  of  the  righteous;  and  all  the 
more  bejewelled  because  of  the  many  con- 
quests he  hath  won,  and  souls  that  have 
been  saved,  which  shall  be  his  joy  and 
crown  of  rejoicing  in  that  day. 

This  is  a  representation  that  is  to  linger  in 
Christian's  mind  and  memory  all  through 
the  pilgrimage,  seeing  that  many  false 
teachers,    as    wolves    in    sheep's   clothing, 


Passio7t  and  Patience. 


71 


Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this? 

The  Interpreter  answered:  This  parlor  Is  the  heart  of  a  mr.n 
that  was  never  sanctified  by  the  sweet  grace  of  the  Gospel ;  the  dusi 
is  his  original  sin,  and  inward  corruptions  that  have  defiled  the  whole 
man.  He  that  began  to  sweep  at  first  is  the  Law;  but  she  that 
brought  water,  and  did  sprinkle  it,  is  the  Gospel.  Now  whereas  thou 
sawest,  that  as  soon  as  the  first  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  did  so  fly 
about  that  the  room  by  him  could  not  be  cleansed,  but  that  thou 
wast  almost  chocked  therewith ;  this  is  to  show  thee,  that  the  law, 
instead  of  cleansing  the  heart  (by  its  working)  from  sin,  doth  revive, 
put  strength  into,  and  increase  it  in  the  soul,  as  it  doth  discover  and 
forbid  it,  but  doth  not  give  power  to  subdue  (Rom.  5  :  20  ;  7:6;  i 
Cor.  15:  56).  Again,  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the  room 
with  water,  upon  which  it  was  cleansed  with  pleasure ;  this  is  to 
show  thee,  that  when  the  Gospel  comes  in  the  sweet  and  precious 
influences  thereof,  to  the  heart,  then  I  say,  even  as  thou  sawest  the 
damsel  lay  the  dust  by  sprinkling  the  floor  with  water,  so  is  sin  van- 
quished and  subdued,  and  the  soul  made  clean,  through  the  faith  of 
it;  and  consequendy  fit  for  the  King  of  glory  to  inhabit  (John  15  : 
3;    Acts  15:9;   Rom.  16:  25,  26 ;    Eph.  5:26). 

I  saw,  moreover,  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  by 
the  hand,  and  had  him  into  a  little  room,  where  sat  two  little  chil- 
dren, each  one  in  his  chair.  The  name  of  the  eldest  was  Passion, 
and  of  the  other  Patience :  Passion  se  "med  to  be  much  discontent,  but 
Patience  was  very  quiet.  Then  Christian  asked.  What  is  the  reason 
of  the  discontent  of  Passion  ?  The  Interpreter  answered,  The  gov- 
ernor of  them  would  have  him  stay  for  his  best  things  till  the  begin- 
ning of  the  next  year  ;   but  he  will  have  them  all  now  ;  but  Patience 


is  willinor  to  wait. 


would  present  themselves  at  various  times 
and  seasons,  to  the  great  peril  of  all  who 
hear  them. 

The  Dusty  Parlor. — This  symbol  is,  no 
doubt,  designed  to  strengthen  the  impres- 
sion already  made  upon  the  Pilgrim's  mind 
by  the  scene  at  Sinai.  The  dust  of  the 
"Dusty  Parlor"  is  indwelling  sin.  The 
besom  of  the  law  awakes  the  slumbering 
dusts,  revives  its  power,  and  causes  it  to  be 
sensibly  felt.  Disturbed  from  its  settled 
state,  and  discovered  to  our  eyes,  the  dust  of 
iin  rises  as  a  cloud  of  witness,  witnessing 


against  us.  The  law  can  disturb  sin  and 
arouse  it,  but  the  law  cannot  take  it  away. 
Then  comes  the  Gospel,  with  the  sprinkled 
waters  of  Christ's  atoning  love,  which  bind 
sin  and  repress  it.  The  power  of  the  law 
and  the  Gospel  respectively,  with  regard  to 
sin,  receives  here  one  of  the  most  telling 
illustrations  that  uninspired  man  has  ever 
written.  This  scene,  indeed,  well  describes 
those  two  scriptures — "  I  had  not  known 
sin,  but  by  the  law "  (Rom.  7:7);  and, 
"  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taktth 
away  the  sin  of  the  world  "  (John  i  :  29). 


72 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


Then  I  saw  that  one  came  to  Passion,  and  brought  him  a  bag  of 
treasure,  and  poured  it  down  at  his  feet;  the  which  he  took  up  and 
rejoiced  therein,  and  withal  laughed  Patience  to  scorn.  But  I  beheld 
but  awhile,  and  he  had  lavished  all  away,  and  had  nothing  left  him 
but  rags. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  Expound  this  matter 
more  fully  to  me. 

So  he  said,  These  two  lads  are  figures  :  Passion  of  the  men  ol 
this  world,  and  Patience  of  the  men  of  that  which  is  to  come  ;  for, 
as  here  thou  seest.  Passion  will  have  all  now,  this  year,  that  is  to  say 
in  this  world ;  so  are  the  men  of  this  world  :  they  must  have  all  their 
good  things  now,  they  cannot  stay  till  next  year,  that  is,  until  the  next 
world,  for  their  portion  of  good.  That  proverb,  "  A  bird  in  the  hand 
is  worth  two  in  the  bush,"  is  of  more  authority  with  them  than  are 
all  the  divine  testimonies  of  the  good  of  the  world  to  come.  But  2^ 
thou  sawest  that  he  had  quickly  lavished  all  away,  and  had  presently 
left  him  nothing  but  rags,  so  will  it  be  with  all  such  men  at  the  end 
of  this  world. 

Then  said  Christian,  Now  I  see  that  Patience  has  the  best  wis- 
dom, and  that  upon  many  accounts,  because  he  stays  for  the  best 
things,  and  also  because  he  will  have  the  glory  of  his,  when  the 
other  has  nothing  but  rags. 

Inter.  Nay,  you  may  add  another :  to  wit,  the  glory  of  the  next 
world  will  never  wear  out,  but  these  are  suddenly  gone.  Therefore 
Passion  had  not  so  much  reason  to  laugh  at  Patience,  because  he 
had  his  good  things  first,  as  Patience  will  have  to  laugh  at  Passion, 
because  he  had  his  best  things  last ;  ior  first  mustgive  place  to  last, 
because  last  must  have  his  time  to  come ;  but  last  gives  place  to 
nothing,  for  there  Is  not  another  to  succeed.  He  therefore  that  has 
his  portion  yzrj-zf  must  needs  have  a  time  to  spend  it ;  but  he  that  hath 
his  portion  last  must  have  it  lastingly.  Therefore  It  is  said  of  Dives, 
"In  thy  lifetime  thou  receivedst  thy  good  things,  and  likewise  Lazarus 
evil  things,  but  now  he  is  comforted,  and  thou  art  tormented  "  (Luke 
16:   19-31). 


Passion  and  Patience. — Passion  is  as  a 
desolating  army  that  ravages  the  land,  and 
eats  from  hand  to  mouth  the  growing  har- 
vests, as  yet  unripe ;  leaving  no  seed  for 
the  sower  of  the  coming  seed-time.  Pa- 
tience plants  the  seed  now,  in  hope  of 
the  future  harvest ;  and  waits  for  the  timely 


season  to  render  back  its  thirty-fold,  its 
sixty-fold,  or  its  hundred-fold.  Patience 
walks  by  faith,  while  Passion  walks  by 
sight.  Passion,  like  the  Prodigal,  hath 
his  portion  now,  and  spends  it  here ;  where- 
as Patience  hath  his  portion  hereafter, 
and  enjoys   it   throughout  eternity ;  or,  as 


In  the  Interpreter  s  House, 


INTERPRETER  SHOWS  CHRISTIAN  THE  FIRE  AGAINST  THE  WALL. 

Chr.  Then  I  perceive  it  is  not  best  to  covet  things  that  are  now, 
but  to  wait  for  things  to  come. 

Inter.  You  say  truth:  "for  the  things  that  are  seen  are  tem- 
poral; but  the  things  that  are  not  seen  are  eternal"  (2  Cor.  4:  18). 
But  though  this  be  so,  yet  since  things  present  and  our  fleshly  appetite 
are  such  near  neighbors  one  to  another  ;  and,  again,  because  things 
to  come  and  carnal  sense  are  such  strangers  one  to  another,  there- 
fore it  is  that  the  first  of  these  so  suddenly  fall  into  annty,  and  that 
distance  is  so  continued  between  the  second. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  t  'i^k  Christian  by 
the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  place  where  was  a  fire  burning  against 
a  wall,  and  one  standing  by  it,  always  casting  much  water  upon  it  to 
quench  it ;  yet  did  the  fire  burn  higher  and  hotter. 


Bunyan  puis  it,  "  He  that  hath  his  portion 
last,  must  have  it  lastingly." 

A  Fire  burning  against  the  Wall. — This 
is  an  eloquent  symbol  of  the  living  Chris- 


tian, whose  spiritual  life  is  fed,  from  secret 
sources,  while  the  enemy  constantly  seeks 
to  destroy  its  vitality.  The  life  of  the  man 
of  God  is  ofttimes  likened  to  a  burning  fire. 


74 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  fire  is  the  work  of  grace  that  is 
wrought  in  the  heart ;  he  that  casts  water  upon  it,  to  extinguish  and 
put  it  out,  is  the  devil;  but,  in  that  thou  seest  the  fire,  notwithstand- 
ing, burn  higher  and  hotter,  thou  shalt  also  see  the  reason  of  that. 
So  he  had  him  about  to  the  back  side  of  the  wall,  where  he  saw  a 
man  with  a  vessel  of  oil  in  his  hand,  of  the  which  he  did  also  contin- 
ually cast,  but  secretly,  into  the  fire. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  is  Christ,  who  continually  with 
the  oil  of  his  grace  maintains  the  work  already  begun  in  the  heart;  by 
the  means  of  which,  notwithstanding  what  the  devil  can  do,  the  souls 
of  his  people  prove  gracious  still  (2  Cor.  12:  9).  And  in  that  thou 
sawest  that  the  man  stood  behind  the  wall  to  maintain  the  fire ;  this 
is  to  teach  thee  that  it  is  hard  for  the  tempted  to  see  how  this  work 
of  grace  is  maintained  in  the  soul. 

I  saw  also  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  again  by  the  hand,  and 
led  him  into  a   pleasant  place,  where  was  builded  a  stately  palace, 
beautiful    to   behold ;  at   the   sight  of  which    Christian  was    gready 
delighted  ;  he  saw  also  upon  the  top  thereof  certain  persons  walking 
who  were  clothed  all  in  gold. 

Then  said  Christian,  May  we  go  in  thither? 

Then  the  Interpreter  took  him,  and  led  him  up  toward  the  door 
of  the  palace ;  and,  behold,  at  the  door  stood  a  great  company  of  men, 
as  desirous  to  go  in,  but  durst  not.  There  also  sat  a  man  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  door,  at  a  table-side,  with  a  book  and  his  inkhorn 


At  first  it  is  but  a  spark  kindled  in  the 
breast,  and  this  is  fanned  by  the  breath  of 
the  Spirit,  and  fed  with  the  fuel  of  Divine 
love — the  oil  of  grace,  directly  supplied  by 
the  hand  of  God.  This  is  its  heavenly  food, 
and  by  this  it  lives.  But,  saith  St.  Paul,  "  I 
see  another  law  in  my  members,  warring 
against  the  law  of  my  mind."  So,  the 
the  dreamer  beholds  the  fire  struggling 
against  fearful  odds ;  for  one  stood  beside 
it,  and  did  continually  pour  water  upon  it  to 
quench  it.  But  the  fire  did  not  die,  was 
not  extinguished,  but  rather  burned  "  higher 
and  hotter." 

In  this  is  set  forth  the  antagonism  of  Sa- 
tan to  man's  soul ;  as  also  the  overcoming 
power  of  sustaining  grace,  "  the  secret  of  the 
Lord  which  is  with  them  that  fear  him." 


Satan  stands  at  our  right  hand,  and 
would  utterly  quench  the  inner  life,  were 
it  not  that  Christ  is  with  us,  pouring  the  oil 
of  grace  upon  the  soul.  And  this  is  our  se- 
curity, that  "many  waters  cannot  quench" 
the  flame  of  Divine  love  when  it  is  truly 
kindled  in  the  heart.  Even  the  "  smoking 
flax  "  shall  not  be  quenched  ;  for  Jesus 
stands,  unseen,  but  truly  felt,  and  in  secret 
he  supplies  the  grace  Divine  ;  and  when  the 
quenching  waters  fall  in  torrents,  and  the 
flame  burns  its  weakest,  then  comes  the  re 
assuring  word,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  fo) 
thee  ;  "  and  God  doth  strengthen  the  things 
that  remain,  that  are  ready  to  die.  The  oil 
of  grace  feeds  the  flame.  The  might  of 
Jesus  is  greater  than  all  the  power  of  Satan. 
The  Inkhorn    and  the    Book.  —  This   is 


The  Man  of  Despair. 


75 


before  him,  to  take  the  name  of  him  that  should  enter  therein.  He 
saw  also  that  in  the  doorway  stood  many  men  in  armor  to  keep  it, 
being  resolved  to  do  to  the  man  that  would  enter  what  hurt  and  mis- 
chief they  could.  Now  was  Christian  somewhat  in  amaze  ;  at  last, 
when  every  man  started  back  for  fear  of  the  armed  men,  Christian 
saw  a  man  of  a  very  stout  countenance  come  up  to  the  man  tb.at  sat 
there  to  write,  saying.  Set  down  my  name,  Sir;  the  which  when  he 
had  done,  he  saw  the  man  draw  his  sword,  and  put  a  helmet  upon 
his  head,  and  rush  toward  the  door  upon  the  armed  men,  who  laid 
upon  him  with  deadly  force  ;  but  the  man,  not  at  all  discourai^ed,  fell 
to  cutting  and  hacking  most  fiercely  (Acts  14  :  22);  so,  after  he  had 
received  and  given  many  wounds  to  those  that  attempted  to  keep 
him  out,  he  cut  his  way  through  them  all,  and  pressed  forward  into 
the  palace ;  at  which  there  was  a  pleasant  voice  heard  from  those 
that  were  within,  even  of  those  that  walked  upon  the  top  of  the 
palace,  saying, 

"  Come  in,  come  in, 
Eternal  glory  thou  shalt  win." 

So  he  went  in,  and  was  clothed  with  such  garments  as  they.  Then 
Christian  smiled,  and  said,  I  think  verily  I  know  the  meaning  of  this. 

Now,  said  Christian,  let  me  go  hence.  Nay,  stay,  said  the  Inter- 
preter, till  I  have  showed  thee  a  little  more  ;  and  after  that  thou 
shalt  go  on  thy  way. 

So  he  took  him  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a  very  dark 
room,  where  there  sat  a  man  in  an  iron  cage.  Now  the  man  to 
look  on  seemed  very  sad  ;  he  sat  with  his  eyes  looking  down  to  the 
ground,  his  hands  folded  together,  and  he  sighed  as  if  he  would 
break  his  heart. 


a  battle  scene,  and  it  truly  describes  the  en- 
trance-door to  heaven  and  the  striving  and 
the  lifelong  conflict  by  which  an  entrance 
is  effected.  It  is  designed  to  show  to  the 
Pilgrim,  what  we  have  already  endeavored 
to  point  out  in  the  context  of  the  "Wicket- 
gate,"  that  there  is  still  a  great  warfare  to  be 
waged,  a  strife  to  be  maintained,  and  that 
through  the  clash  of  arms  and  the  battle  of 
the  warrior,  the  Christian  soldier  must  pass 
to  the  final  victory  and  triumph.  Christian 
on  viewing  this  scene,  smiled,  and  thought 
he  saw  the  meaning  of  it.  Yes,  he  there 
saw  his  own  future  conflict,  and  (if  he  be 


but  steadfast)  the  type  and  earnest  of  his 
final  victory. 

The  Dark  Room  and  Iron  Cag-e. — This 
man  was  "very  sad,"  with  downcast  eyes, 
his  hands  folded  in  the  terribleness  of  de- 
spair, and  his  heart  breaking,  and  well-nigh 
broken,  by  the  heavy  woe  tha'  had  fallen 
upon  it.  This  man  was  once  '  profession  ;  " 
he  is  now  "  despair  ;"  he  sees  no  light,  en= 
tertains  no  hope,  and  knows  no  liberty. 
Whether  such  a  state  as  this  is  '  of  God," 
or  not,  we  do  not  say  ;  but  it  appears  that 
Bunyan  interweaves  certain  facts  of  his  own 
experience  in  this  portion  of  'he  Allegory. 


76 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this? 

At  which  the  Interpreter  bid  him  talk  with  the  man. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  man,  What  art  thou  ? 

The  man  answered,  I  am  what  I  was  not  once. 

Chk.    What  wast  thou  once  ? 

The  man  sa.'d,  I  was  once  a  fair  and  flourishing-  [jrofessor,  bot.^ 
in  mine  own  eyes,  and  also  in  the  eyes  of  others  ;  I  was  once,  a?  I 
thought,  fair  for  the  Celestial  City,  and  had  then  even  joy  at  the 
thoughts  that  I  should  get  thither  (Luke  8  :   13). 

Chr.    Well,  but  what  art  thou  now? 

Man.  lam  now  a  man  of  despair,  and  am  shut  up  in  it  as  in 
this  iron  cage.     I  cannot  get  out ;  O  now  I  cannot ! 

Chr.    But  how  earnest  thou  in  this  condition  ? 

Man.  I  left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober  ;  I  laid  the  reins  upon 
the  neck  of  my  lusts  ;  I  sinned  against  the  light  of  the  word,  and  the 
goodness  of  God ;  I  have  grieved  the  Spirit,  and  he  is  gone  ;  I 
tempted  the  devil,  and  he  is  come  to  me  ;  I  have  provoked  God  to 
anger,  and  he  has  left  me  ;  I  have  so  hardened  my  heart,  that  I  can- 
not repent. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  But  is  there  no  hope  for 
such  a  man  as  this  ? 

Ask  him,  said  the  Interpreter. 

Then  said  Christian,  Is  there  no  hope,  but  you  must  be  kept  in 
the  iron  cage  of  despair  ? 

Man.    No,  none  at  all. 

Chr.    Why  ?  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful. 

Man.  I  have  "crucified  him  to  myself  afresh"  (Heb.  6:  4-6; 
Luke  19:  14),  I  have  despised  his  person,  I  have  despised  his  right- 
eousness, I  have  counted  his  blood  an  unholy  thing,  I  have  done 
despite  to  the  Spirit  of  grace  (Heb.  10:  28,  29);  therefore  I  have  shut 


He  had  known  some  of  his  friends  to  have 
been  thus  reduced  to  desperation,  and  to 
have  lost  all  confidence  in  God.  Anyway, 
it  is  an  awful  admonition,  this  particular 
scene  of  the  Interpreter's  House. 

The  danger  of  mere  profession,  without 
corresponding  fruit,  is  set  forth  in  the  mira- 
cle of  our  blessed  Lord,  which  he  wrought 
upon  the  fruitless  fig-tree  (Mark  11  :  12-14, 
10-22).  This  was  a  pretentious  tree,  and 
by  its  profusion  of  leaves  it  attracted  the 
notice  of  the   Saviour,  who  came   seeking 


fruit,  but  found  "  nothing  but  leaves."  That 
fig-tree  is  the  emblem  of  a  dead  faith,  a  pro- 
fitless profession  of  religion  ;  and  lo,  by  the 
wayside  it  is  blighted,  and  blasted,  and 
withered  away !  Mere  professors  shall,  at 
the  last,  be  uprooted  from  the  soil,  which 
has  spent  its  sap  and  strength  for  naught  in 
feeding  them  ;  they  shall  be  blighted  even 
in  the  full  foliage  of  their  profession  ;  and  in 
their  fall  they  shall  make  all  men  see  the 
visitation  of  God's  hand  and  the  power  oi 
his  Word. 


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CHRISTIAN   IN   VIEW   OF   THE   CROSS. 


77 


78 


The  Pilgritns  Progress. 


myself  out  of  all  the  promises;  and  there  now  remains  to  me  noth- 
ing but  threatenings,  dreadful  threatenings,  fearful  threatenings  of 
certain  judgment  which  shall  devour  me  as  an  adversary. 

Chr.    For  what  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this  condition  ? 

Man.  For  the  lusts,  pleasures  and  profits  of  this  world,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  which  I  did  then  promise  myself  much  delight;  but 
now  every  one  of  those  things  also  bites  me,  and  gnaws  me  like  a 
burning  worm. 

Chr.    But  canst  thou  not  now  repent  and  turn  ? 

Man.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance;  his  word  gives  me  no 
encouragement  to  believe  ;  yea,  himself  hath  shut  me  up  in  this  iron 
cage  ;  nor  can  all  the  men  in  the  world  let  me  out.  O  Eternity  \ 
Eternity  !  how  shall  I  grapple  with  the  misery  that  I  must  meet  with 
in  Eternity  ? 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Let  this  man's  misery  be 
remembered  by  thee,  and  be  an  everlasting  caution  to  thee. 

Well,  said  Christian,  this  is  fearful !  God  help  me  to  watch  and 
be  sober,  and  to  pray  that  I  may  shun  the  causes  of  this  man's  mis- 
ery.    Sir,  is  it  not  time  for  me  to  go  on  my  way  now  ? 

Inter.  Tarry  till  I  show  thee  one  thing  more,  and  then  thou 
shalt  go  on  thy  way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a 
chamber  where  there  was  one  rising  out  of  bed  ;  and  as  he  put  on  his 
raimant,  he  shook  and  trembled. 

Then  said  Christian,  Why  does  this  man  thus  tremble  ? 

The  Interpreter  then  bid  him  tell  to  Christian  the  reason  of  his 
so  doing.  So  he  began  and  said,  This  night  as  I  was  in  my  sleep  I 
dreamed,  and  behold  the  heavens  grew  exceeding  black ;  also  it 
thundered  and  lightened  in  most  fearful  wise,  that  it  put  me  into 
an  agony.  So  I  looked  up  in  my  dream,  and  saw  the  clouds  rack  at 
an  unusual  rate  ;  upon  which  I  heard  a  great  sound  of  a  trumpet, 
and  saw  a  man  sit  upon  a  cloud,  attended  with  the  thousands   of 


The  Dream  of  Judgment. — This  is  the 
closing  scene  of  the  Interpreter's  House,  as 
its  great  subject — the  Judgment — will  be  the 
closing  scene  of  the  world's  great  history. 
In  that  dream,  the  dreamer  has  seen  and 
heard  all  the  terrible  accompaniments  and 
associations  of  the  final  Judgment.  The  eye 
of  the  Judge  was  fixed  upon  him,  as  though 
he  stood  alone  for  judgment;  and  his  sins 
rose  up  and  gathered  round  him,  as  wit- 


nesses against  his  soul.  The  dreamer  had 
awakened  in  the  midst  of  these  terrors,  and 
therefore  "he  shook  and  trembled." 

This  is  a  true  description  of  the  final 
Judgment ;  but  it  is  the  Judgment  of  sinners 
This  is  pre-eminently  the  dream  of  an  un- 
converted man,  conscious  of  his  sin,  but  as 
yet  unable  to  look  to  the  Saviour  of  sinners  ; 
it  is  but  the  transcript  of  the  waking  thoughts 
and  fears  and  consciences  of  the  ungodly. 


The  Vision  of  Judgmerit. 


79 


heaven  ;  they  were  all  in  flaming  fire ;  also  the  heavens  were  on  a 
ourning  flame.  I  heard  then  a  voice  saying,  Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come 
to  judgment ;  and  with  that  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  opened,  and 
the  dead  that  were  therein  came  forth ;  some  of  them  were  exceed- 
ing glad  and  looked  upward  ;  and  some  sought  to  hide  themselves 
under  the  mountains  (John  5:  28,  29  ;  i  Cor.  5:  51-58;  2  Thess. 
I  :  7-10 ;  Jude  14 :  15 ;  Rev.  20:  1 1-15 ;  Ps.  50:  1-3,  22  ;  Isa.  26:  20, 
21;  Islicah  7:  16,  17).  Then  I  saw  the  man  that  sat  upon  the 
cloud  open  the  book  and  bid  the  world  draw  near.  Yet  there 
was  by  reason  of  a  fierce  flame  that  issued  out  and  came  from 
before  him,  a  convenient  distance  betwixt  him  and  them,  as  betwixt 
the  judge  and  the  prisoners  at  the  bar  (Dan.  7 :  9,  10;  Mai.  3:2,  3). 
I  heard  it  also  proclaimed  to  them  that  attended  on  the  man  that 
sat  on  the  cloud,  Gather  together  the  tares,  the  chaff,  and  the  stubble, 
and  cast  them  into  the  burning  lake  (Mai.  4:1,  2);  and  with  that 
the  bottomless  pit  opened,  just  whereabout  I  stood  ;  out  of  the  mouth 
of  which  there  came,  in  an  abundant  manner,  smoke  and  coals  of 
fire,  with  hideous  noises.  It  was  also  said  to  the  same  persons 
Gather  my  wheat  into  the  garner  (Matt.  3  :  12,  13,  30;  Luke  3  :  17); 
and  with  that  I  saw  many  catched  up  and  carried  away  in  the  clouds 
(i  Thess. 4:  13-18),  but  I  was  left  behind.  I  also  sought  to  hide 
myself,  but  I  could  not,  for  the  man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  still 
kept  his  eye  upon  me  ;  my  sins  also  came  into  my  mind,  and  my  con- 
science did  accuse  me  on  every  side  (Rom.  2  :  14,  15).  Upon  this 
I  awaked  from  my  sleep. 

Chr.   But  what  was  it  that  made  you  so  afraid  of  the  sight? 

Man.  Why  I  thought  that  the  day  of  judgment  was  come,  and 
that  I  was  not  ready  for  it.  But  this  frightened  me  most,  that  the 
angels  gathered  up  several  and  left  me  behind;  also  the  pit  of  hell 
opened  her  mouth  just  where  I  stood.  My  conscience,  too,  afllicted 
me ;  and,  as  I  thought,  the  Judge  had  always  his  eye  upon  me,  show- 
ing indignation  in  his  countenance. 

I  hen  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Hast  thou  considered  all 
these  things  ? 


But  tlie  Judgment  has  no  such  terrors  to 
them  that  are  in  Jesus.  That  great  day 
shall  be  a  day  of  joy  and  blessedness  to  all 
them  that  wait  for  the  promised  advent  of 
the  Lord,  "looking  for  that  blessed  hope 
and  the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God 
and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ"  (Titus  2  :   13). 


Hast  thou  considered  all  these  things  ? — 
This  is  not  mere  idle  sight-seeing ;  these 
scenes  are  the  deep  experiences  of  men  — 
what  they  feel,  what  they  fear,  what  they 
hope,  and  what  they  do.  "  Hast  thou  con- 
sidered them?"  Christian  has  seen  and 
pondered  them.     He  is  undergoing  a  pro- 


80 


The  Pilgrim's  Prrgress. 


Chr.  Yes,  and  they  put  me  in  hope  and  fear. 

Inter.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy  mind  that  they  may  be 
as  a  goad  in  thy  sides,  to  prick  thee  forward  in  the  way  thou  must  go. 
Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address  himself  to 
his  journey.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  The  Comforter  be  always 
with  thee,  good  Christian,  to  guide  thee  in  the  way  that  leads  to  the 
city.     So  Christian  went  on  his  way;  saying  : 

"  Here  I  have  seen  things  rare  and  profitable ; 
Things  pleasant,  dreadful,  things  to  make  me  stable 
In  what  I  have  begun  to  take  in  hand ; 
Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
Wherefore  they  show'd  me  were  ;  and  let  me  be 
Thankful,  O  good  Interpreter,  to  thee." 


cess  of  instruction,  and  thus  partaking  of 
the  privileges  of  the  way  on  which  he  has 
entered.  So  far  he  is — as  many  are — with 
more  or  less  consciousness  of  sin,  repairing 
to  the  teaching  of  the  Interpreter,  the 
Holy  Spirit,  who  will  yet  lead  the  Pilgrim 


onward  on  the  road,  beyond  the  checkered 
scenes  of  his  pilgrimage,  and  conduct  him  by 
the  way  of  the  Cross  to  the  everlasting  Crown. 

"  No  fears  disturb,  no  foes  molest, 
Nor  death,  nor  sin,  nor  care, 
In  Thy  fair  house  of  endless  rest, 
0  Great  Interpreter  1 " 


CHAPTER  VI. 


The  Cross  and  the  Contrast. 

Here  Pilgrim  comes  in  full  view  of  the  Cross,  and  near  the  Cross,  in  the  hollow,  isti> 
Sepulchre.  In  sight  of  the  Cross  he  receives  the  long-wished-for,  the  long-prayed-for  deliver- 
ance ;  the  thongs  and  bands  that  bound  his  burden  to  his  back  are  burst  asunder,  and  the 
burden  falls  off,  and  rolls  down,  and  at  last  disappears  forever  through  the  open  mouth  of 
Ihe  Sepulchre.  All  is  now  rest  and  peace,  life,  light,  and  liberty,  mingled  with  wonder  and 
astonishment,  and  tempered  with  the  tears  of  joy. 

|OW  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  highway,  up  which  Chris- 
tian was  to  go,  was  fenced  on  either  side  with  a  wall,  and 
that  wall  was  called  Salvation  (Isa.  26:  i  ;  60:  18).  Up 
this  way  therefore  did  burdened  Christian  run,  but  not 
without  great  difficulty,  because  of  the  load  on  his  back. 
He  ran  thus  till  he  came  at  a  place  somewhat  ascending,  and 
upon  that  place  stood  a  cross,  and  a  little  below  in  the  bottom  a 
sepulchre.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as  Christian  came  up 
with  the  cross,  his  burden  loosed  from  off  his  shoulders,  and  fell  from 
off  his  back,  and  began  to  tumble,  and  so  continued  to  do  till  it  came 
to  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre,  where  it  fell  in,  and  I  saw  it  no  more. 
Then  was  Christian  glad  and  lightsome,  and  said  with  a  merry 
heart.  He  hath  given  me  rest  by  his  sorrow,  and  life  by  his  death. 
Then  he  stood  still  awhile  to  look  and  wonder,  for  it  was  very  sur- 
prising to  him  that  the  sight  of  the  cross  should  thus  ease  him  of  his 


Fenced  on  either  side. — The  allusion  here 
is  to  the  figurative  language  of  the  prophet 
— "  Salvation  will  God  appoint  for  walls  and 
bulwarks"  (Isa.  26:  i);  and  again,  "And 
thou  shalt  call  thy  walls  Salvation  and  thy 
gates  Praise"  (Isa.  60:  18).  And  although 
the  direct  application  of  these  texts  is  to  the 
final  blessedness  of  the  saints,  yet  the  allu- 
sion is  well  adapted  in  a  secondary  sense  to 
those  who,  like  our  Pilgrim,  instructed  and 
edified  by  the  Holy  Spirit's  comfort,  counsel, 
and  encouragement,  are  drawing  near  to  the 
foot  of  the  Cross  of  Jesus. 

A  place  somewhat  ascending. — The  Cross 
is  erected  on  the  height  of  an  upward  slope, 

6  C81) 


even  higher  than  the  upward  path.  This  is 
to  indicate  the  ascent  of  Calvary,  the  Mount 
of  Sacrifice ;  and  also  to  suggest,  not  so 
much  the  toil  of  the  burdened  sinner  to  at- 
tain to  it,  as  the  toil  of  the  burdened  Saviour, 
who  bare  not  only  our  sin,  but  the  Cross 
besides,  up  that  "ascending  place,"  and 
there  paid  the  full  ransom  for  man's  iniquity 
in  the  price  of  his  own  most  precious  blood. 


A    Cross. — Blessed 
blessed  still. 


view !  and  yet,  more 


"  The  Man  that  there  was  put  to  shame  for  me  I  " 

The  Cross  here  means  the  Crucified  One.    It 
is  the  emblem  of  all  that  scorn  and  igno- 


82 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


FORMALIST  AND  HYPOCRISY  COMING  INTO  THE  WAY  OVER  THE  WALL. 


burden.  He  looked,  therefore,  and  looked  again,  even  till  the  springs 
that  were  in  his  head  sent  the  waters  down  his  cheeks  (Zech.  12  :  10). 
Now,  as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping,  behold  three  shining  ones 
came  to  him,  and  saluted  him  with  "  Peace  be  to  thee."  So  the  first 
said    to  him,    "Thy  sins   be  forgiven"    (Mark   2:5);   the  second 


miny,  of  all  that  pain  and  agony,  borne  by 
Him  who  "took  our  sins,  and  bare  them  in 
his  own  body  on  the  tree."  The  benefit 
procured  by  the  death  upon  the  Cross  was 
the  object  of  the  Pilgrim's  striving  ;  the  cen- 
tral point  to  which  his  hopes  converged  ; 
the  source  of  all  the  blessed  experiences  of 
his  after-pilgrimage.  There  was  "  the  blood 
of  sprinkling  ;  "  there  the  atoning  Lamb  ; 
there  the  substitute  for  the  sinner ;  and  there 
the  sacrifice  for  sin.  Christ  and  the  Cross  ! 
Here  is  the  Altar,  and  the  Victim,  and  the 
Priest ;  aud  in  the  Crucified  One  the  scheme 


It     is 


of    redemption    is    accomplished- 
FINISHED  !" 

A  Sepulchre. — Well  is  the  Sepulchre 
placed  hard  by  the  Cross.  In  the  crucified 
Jesus  the  debt  is  cancelled,  and  the  bond  is 
nailed  to  the  accursed  tree.  "  He  took  it 
out  of  the  way,  nailitig  it  to  his  cross  "  (Col. 
2:    14). 

//is  burden  loosed,  and  fell. — Sin  is  de- 
scribed not  only  as  a  burden,  but  as  a  bur- 
den bound  upon  the  conscience  of  the  Pil- 
grim— adhering,  clinging,  to  the  sinner,  who 
is  "tied  and  bound  with  the  chain  of  sin." 


Simple^  Sloth  and  Presumption. 


83 


stripped  him  of  his  rags,  and  clodied  him  with  change  of  raiment 
(Zech.  3:4);  the  third  also  set  a  mark  upon  his  forehead  (Eph.  i  : 
13),  and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  upon  it,  which  he  bid  him  look 
on  as  he  ran,  and  that  he  should  give  it  in  at  the  celestial  gate  ;  so 
they  went  their  way.  Then  Christian  gave  three  leaps  for  joy,  and 
went  on  singing : 

"  Thus  far  did  I  come  loaden  with  my  sin. 
Nor  could  aught  ease  the  grief  that  I  was  in, 
Till  I  came  hither ;  what  a  place  is  this  ! 
Must  here  be  the  beginning  of  my  bliss  ? 
Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  off  my  back  ? 
Must  here  the  strings  that  bound  it  to  me  crack  ? 
Blest  cross  !  blest  sepulchre  !  blest  rather  be 
The  Man  that  there  was  put  to  shame  for  me !  " 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream  that  he  went  on  thus  even  until  he 
came  to  a  bottom,  where  he  saw,  a  little  out  of  the  way,  three  men 
fast  asleep,  with  fetters  upon  their  heels.  The  name  of  the  one  was 
Simple,  another  Sloth,  and  the  third  Presumption. 


These  bands  are  now  unloosed  in  view  of 
the  Cross  ;  and  the  burden  falls  from  off  his 
back. 

And  I  saw  it  no  more. — The  Bible  repre- 
sents forgiven  sin  as  being  "blotted  out;" 
"no  more  remembered;"  "sought  for,  but 
not  found ;"  "  cast  into  the  depths  of  the 
sea."  It  sleeps  its  everlasting  sleep,  to  rise 
no  more. 

Then  was  Christian  glad. — The  Wicket- 
gate.  There  was  the  threshold  of  his  jour- 
ney, but  here  is  the  threshold  of  his  joy. 
There  he  became  a  Christian  in  prospect — 
his  faith  weak  and  trembling  ;  here  he  be- 
comes a  Christian  in  deed  and  in  truth — his 
faith  assured  and  confident. 

Behold,  three  Shining  Ones. — This  is  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  of  the  touches  of 
Bunyan's  pencil.  These  are  the  evidences 
of  the  deliverance  from  the  burden  and  ac- 
companiments of  sin.  Yea,  they  are  more  : 
these  "three  Shining  Ones"  are  plainly  in- 
tended to  represent  no  less  a  visitation  than 
that  of  Unity  in  Trinity  and  Trinity  in 
Unity.  This  will  further  appear  by  consid- 
ering the  particulars  of  their  visit. 

They  all  saluted  the  Pilgri.Ti  with  one  com- 
mon salutation — ■''  Peace  be  to  thee."  Here 
Jhe  Three  are  One. 


Then  each  of  the  glorious  Three  has  a 
personal  and  peculiar  office  to  fulfil,  and 
some  special  gift  to  bestow. 

The  First  says — "Thy  sins  be  forgiven 
thee."  This  is  God  the  Father,  to  whom 
belong  pardon  and  forgiveness. 

The  Second  "  stripped  him  of  his  rags, 
and  clothed  him  with  change  of  raiment." 
This  is  Jesus  Christ — God  the  Son.  He 
takes  away  the  rags  of  our  own  righteous- 
ness, and  clothes  us  with  the  new  robe  of 
his  own  righteousness — the  righteousness 
from  heaven.  It  is  an  exchange — not  the 
putting  of  Christ's  righteousness  over  our 
filthy  rags,  but  the  gift  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness instead  of  our  filthy  rags. 

The  Third  "  seta  mark  upon  his  forehead, 
and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  upon  it." 
This  is  evidently  the  Holy  Spirit  who 
"  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit,  that 
we  are  the  children  of  God"  (Rom. 
8:  16).  He  imprints  the  Mark  of  owner- 
ship, the  token  that  we  are  of  God.  He 
gives  the  roll  of  the  parchment — the  law 
written  on  our  hearts — upon  which  the  Pil- 
grim is  to  look,  and  out  of  which  he  is  to 
read,  and  thence  to  take  comfort,  admoni- 
tion and  instruction  and  to  present  it  by- 
and  by  at  the    gate  of  the  Celestia^  City. 


84 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


Christian  then,  seeing  them  lie  in  this  case,  went  to  them,  if 
peradventure  hemightawake  them,  and  cried,  YouareHke  them  that 
sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast,  for  the  dead  sea  is  under  you  (Prov.  23: 
34 ;)  a  gulf  that  hath  no  bottom  ;  awake,  therefore,  and  come  away. 
Be  willing  also,  and  I  will  help  you  off  with  your  irons.  He  also 
told  them,  If  he  that  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion  comes  by,  you 
will  certainly  become  a  prey  to  his  teeth  (i  Peters:  8).  With  that 
they  looked  upon  him,  and  began  to  reply  in  this  sort :  Simple  said,  I 
see  no  danger;  Sloth  said.  Yet  alitde  more  sleep  ;  and  Presumption 
said,  Every  vat  must  stand  upon  its  own  bottom.  And  so  they  lay 
down  to  sleep  again,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way. 

Yet  he  was  troubled  to  think  that  men  in  that  danger  should  so 
little  esteem  the  kindness  of  him  that  so  freely  offered  to  help  them, 
both  by  awakening  them,  counselling  them,  and  proffering  to  help  them 
off  with  their  irons.  And  as  he  was  troubled  thereabouts  he  espied 
two  men  come  tumbling  over  the  wall,  on  the  left  hand  of  the  narrow 
way;  and  they  made  up  apace  to  him.  The  name  of  the  one  was 
Formalist,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Hypocrisy.  So,  as  I  said,  they 
drew  up  unto  him,  who  thus  entered  with  them  into  discourse. 

Chr.   Gendemen,  whence  came  you,  and  whither  do  you  go? 

Form,  and  Hyp.  We  were  born  in  the  landof  Vair-glory,  and 
are  going  for  praise  to  Mount  Zion. 

Chr.    Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate,  which  standeth  at  the 


The  seal  is  the  "  seal  of  the  Spirit,"  to  cer- 
tify the  credential,  and  authenticate  its  mes- 
sage. 

Thus  all  the  Three  Persons  of  the  Triune 
God  have  a  work  to  do  for  man,  and  each 
his  own  respective  office  to  fulfil,  in  the 
Pardon,  \h&  Justification,  and  the  Sanctifica- 
tiott  of  the  sinner.  And  this  great  doctrine 
and  fact  is  thus  luminously  embodied  in  the 
scene  at  the  Cross,  and  in  the  appearance 
of  'The  Three  Shining  Ones.  ' 

Three  men  fast  asleep. — As  if  to  ex- 
hibit by  contrast  the  greatness  of  the  gift 
he  has  received,  and  the  responsibihty 
arising  therefrom,  Christian  is  permit- 
ted, in  passing,  to  witness  the  folly,  indo- 
lence and  pride  of  certain  carnal  men,  who 
count  themselves  safe  and  exempt  from  dan- 
ger, and  who,  in  their  fancied  security,  have 
all  fallen  "  fast  asleep." 

They  are  "  out  of  the  way,"  though  but "  a 
little;"    they  are    "asleep;"  and  they    are, 


moreover,  bound  in  "fetters;"  and,  worst 
of  all,  the  Roaring  Lion  is  out  upon  the 
way.  Christian  strives  10  awaken  these 
sleepers,  and  to  warn  them  out  of  their  dan- 
ger. Such,  indeed,  is  the  blessed  toil  of 
those  who  have  felt  in  their  own  experience 
the  power  of  pardoning  grace,  and  the  peace 
of  pardoned  sin  ;  they  go  forth  to  win  others 
to  their  great  Saviour's  cause. 

"  I  see  no  danger." — There  are  thousands 
who  are  only  "  a  little  "  out  of  the  way,  who 
are  in  the  very  midst  of  deadly  peril,  and 
can  yet  "  see  no   danger,"   notwithstanding. 

"  A  little  more  sleep. — The  deep  sleep  of 
sloth  and  slumber  has  proved  fatal  to 
many  on  the  border-land  of  the  pilgrim- 
age. They  have  ofttimes  slept  too  long, 
and  sometimes  have  overslept  their  day 
of  grace,  and  been  waked  too  late  "  to 
wrestle  with  the  dread  of  death." 

Every  vat,"  etc. — Presumption  is  the 
scorner  among  these  three.     He  rejects  the 


Formalist  and  Hypocrisy, 


85 


beginning  of  the  way  ?  Know  you  not  that  it  is  written,  that  "  he  that 
cometh  not  in  by  the  door,  but  dimbeth  up  some  other  way,  the 
same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber?"   (John  lo:  i.) 

They  said,  that  to  go  to  the  gate  for  entrance  was  by  all  their 
countrymen  counted  too  far  about ;    and  that  therefore  their  usual 
way  was  to  make  a  short  cut  of  it,  and  to  climb  over  the  wall  as  they 
fliad  done. 

Chr.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a  trespass  against  the  Lord  oi 
the  city  whither  we  are  bound,  thus  to  violate  his  revealed  will  ? 

They  told  him,  that  as  for  that,  he  need  not  trouble  his  head 
thereabout;  for  what  they  did  they  had  custom  for,  and  could 
produce,  if  need  were,  testimony  that  would  witness  it  for  more  than 
a  thousand  years. 

But,  said  Christian,  will  your  practice  stand  trial  at  law  ? 

They  told  him,  that  custom,  it  being  of  so  long  a  standing  as  above 
a  thousand  years,  would  doubtless  now  be  admitted  as  a  thing  legal 
by  an  impartial  judge  ;  and  besides,  said  they,  if  we  go  into  the  way, 
what  matter  is  it  which  way  we  get  in  ?  if  we  are  in,  we  are  in.  Thou 
art  but  in  the  way,  who,  as  we  perceive,  came  in  at  the  gate ;  and  we 
are  also  in  the  way  that  came  tumbling  over  the  wall.  Wherein  now 
is  thy  condition  better  than  ours  ? 

Chr.  I  walk  by  the  rule  of  my  Master,  you  walk  by  the  rude 
working  of  your  fancies.  You  are  counted  thieves  already  by  the 
Lord  of  the  way  ;  therefore  I  doubt  you  will  not  be  found  true  men 
at  the  end  of  the  way.  You  come  in  by  yourselves  without  his 
direction,  and  shall  go  out  by  yourselves  without  his  mercy. 


profifered  counsel,  on  the  ground  of  his  own 
merit,  and  is  ready  to  hold  himself  respon- 
sible for  the  consequences. 

Ttimblimg  over  the  ■waii. — This  is  another 
of  the  contrasts  that  quickly  follow  upon  the 
scene  at  the  Cross — two  men  entering  the 
"  Narrow  Way"  by  unlawful  means.  They 
leap  over  the  wall  on  the  "  left  hand  " — the 
place  of  the  wicked  in  the  judgment;  there- 
by indicating  not  only  the  unlawful  violence 
of  their  act,  but  also  the  evil  character  of  the 
men. 

Formalist — Hypocrisy. — These  are  their 
names,  and  their  nature  agreeth  thereto. 
The  former  is  the  type  of  those  who,  by  an 
external  show  of  religion,  deceive  them- 
selves ;   while  the   latter   represents    those 


who,  under  guise  of  their  hypocrisy,  seek  to 
deceive  others.  The  formalist,  through  his 
outward  attention  to  mere  ritual  observances, 
bhnds  his  own  eyes  to  his  own  inward 
state,  and  ofttimes  takes  for  granted  that 
where  the  gilded  setting  is,  there  the  pre- 
cious jewel  must  be — a  grand  mistake,  and 
a  strong  delusion  !  The  hypocrite,  know- 
ing that  all  is  wrong  within,  bedecks  him- 
self without  with  pretence  and  falsehood, 
and  thus  bhnds  the  eyes  of  others. 

"If  we  are  in,  we  are  in." — This  is  a 
plausible  speech  indeed  !  Yet  out  of  this 
their  boasted  possession  of  the  way  arises 
the  bold  contrast  between  themselves  and 
the  Pilgrim.  He  has  entered  by  the  ap- 
pointed  "door;"    they   have    entered    as 


86 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


To  this  they  made  him  but  Httle  answer,  only  they  bid  him  look 
to  himself.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on  every  man  in  his  way 
without  much  conference  one  with  another,  save  that  these  two  men 
told  Christian,  That,  as  to  laws  and  ordinances,  they  doubted  not 
but  they  should  as  conscientiously  do  them  as  he.  Therefore,  said 
they,  we  see  not  wherein  thou  differest  from  us,  but  by  the  coat  that 
is  on  thy  back,  which  was,  as  we  trow,  given  thee  by  some  of  thy 
neighbors  to  hide  the  shame  of  thy  nakedness. 

Chr.  By  laws  and  ordinances  you  will  not  be  saved,  since  you 
came  not  in  by  the  door  (Gal.  2:  16).  And  as  for  this  coat  that  is 
on  my  back,  it  was  given  me  by  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  I  go  ; 
and  that,  as  you  say,  to  cover  my  nakedness  with.  And  I  take  it  as 
a  token  of  his  kindness  to  me,  for  I  had  nothing  but  rags  before; 
and  besides,  thus  I  comfort  myself  as  I  go,  Surely,  think  I,  when  I 
come  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  the  Lord  thereof  will  know  me  for  good, 
since  I  have  his  coat  on  my  back — a  coat  that  he  gave  me  freely  in 
the  day  that  he  stripped  me  of  my  rags.  I  have,  moreover,  a  mark  in 
my  forehead,  of  which  perhaps  you  have  taken  no  notice,  which  one 
of  my  Lord's  most  intimate  associates  fixed  there,  in  the  day  that  my 
burden  fell  off  my  shoulders.  I  will  tell  you,  moreover,  that  I  had  then 
given  me  a  roll  sealed,  to  comfort  me  by  reading  as  I  go  on  the  way; 
I  was  also  bid  to  give  it  in  at  the  celestial  gate,  in  token  of  my  certain 
going  in  after  it ;  all  of  which  things  I  doubt  you  want,  and  want 
them  because  you  came  not  in  at  the  gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no  answer ;  only  they  looked 
upon  each  other  and  laughed.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went  on  all, 
save  that  Christian  kept  before,  who  had  no  more  talk  but  with  him- 
self, and  that  sometimes  sighingly  and  sometimes  comfortably.  Also 
he  would  be  often  reading  in  the  roll  that  one  of  the  Shining  Ones 
gave  him,  by  which  he  was  refreshed. 


thieves  and  robbers,  climbing  up  some  other 
way.  He  walks  by  his  Master's  rule  ;  they 
by  their  own  fancies.     They  are  false  at  the 


start,  and  cannot  be  true  at  the  end.  Other 
grand  distinctions  in  costume  and  character 
are  enumerated  by  the  Pilgrim. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Hill  Difficulty. 

The  "  narrow  way  "  is  up  a  hill,  straight  before  the  Pilgrims.     This  steep  ascent  is 

called  Difficulty,  and  Christian  addresses  himself  to  chmb  the  hill.     On  either  side  of  the 

ascending  path  there  lay  a  level  road  ;  one  to  the  left  hand,  and  another  to  the  right.     One 

was  called  Danger,  and  the  other  was  Destruction.     By  these  roads  the  two  Pilgrims  wended 

their  way,  each  to  the  ruin  of  his  soul.     Christian  proceeded  up  the  hill ;  and  here  we 

must  pause  and  consider  carefully  the  experience  obtained  at  this  stage  of  his  journey — the 

Pleasant  Arbor ;  his  untimely  sleep  ;  the  dark  shades  of  evening  fast  descending ;  and  how, 

amid  the  alarms  and  terrors  of  the  way,  "  he  felt  in  his  bosom  for  his  roll  ...  he  felt,  and 

^ound  it  not." 

"  'Tis  gone  !  and  the  darkness  more  gloomy  than  ever, 
Like  sadness  that  always  accompanies  loss, 
Compels  him  to  seek,  if  he  yet  may  recover. 
The  Roll  of  the  Parchment  he  found  at  the  Cross." 

BEHELD  then  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill  Difficulty,  at  the  bottom  of  which  was 
a  spring.  There  were  also  in  the  same  place  two  other 
ways  besides  that  which  came  straight  from  the  gate: 
one  turned  to  the  left  hand,  and  the  other  to  the  right,  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hill ;  but  the  narrow  way  lay  right  up  the  hill,  and 
the  name  of  the  going  up  the  side  of  the  hill  is  called  Difficulty. 

Christian  now  went  to   the  spring,  and  drank  thereof  to  refresh 
himself  (Isa.  49 :  10),  and  then  began  to  go  up  the  hill,  saying, 

The  hill,  though  high,  I  covet  to  ascend, 

The  difficulty  will  not  me  offend ; 

For  I  perceive  the  way  to  life  lies  here ; 

Come,  pluck  up,  heart,  let's  neither  faint  nor  fear; 

Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way  to  go, 

Than  wrong,  though  easy,  where  the  end  is  woe. 


The  hill  Difficulty.— VJho  that  has  been 
at  the  foot  of  the  Cross  has  not  also  had  to 
meet  the  difficulties  of  the  way  ?  These  are 
tests,  provided  for  "the  trial  of  our  faith." 
The  way  is  straight  and  narrow,  but  it  is  not 
always  level. 

At  the  bottom  was  a  spring. — Not  without 
some  special  provision  is  the  Pilgrim  com- 
mitted to  this  special  difficulty.     The  spring 


of  water  is  placed  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  for 
the  refreshment  of  pilgrims  before  they  begin 
the  ascent.  The  waters  of  life  refresh  the 
soul,  renew  the  strength,  and  enable  us 
more  bravely  to  meet  the  difficulties  of  the 
way.     "All  my  springs  are  in  thee"  (Ps. 

87  :  7). 

Two  other  ways. — But  where  are   For- 
malist and  Hypocrisy  ?    "  If  we  are  in, 


(87) 


88 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


The  other  two  also  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill ;  but  when  they 
saw  that  the  hill  was  steep  and  hi(rh,  and  that  there  were  two  other 
ways  to  go,  and  supposing  also  that  these  two  ways  might  meet 
again  with  that  up  which  Christian  went,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hill,  therefore  they  were  resolved  to  go  in  those  ways.  Now  the 
name  of  one  of  those  ways  was  Danger,  and  the  name  of  the  other 
Destruction.  So  the  one  took  the  way  which  is  called  Danger, 
which  led  him  into  a  great  wood ;  and  the  other  took  directly  up  the 
way  to  Destruction,  which  led  into  a  wide  field  full  of  dark  mountains, 
where  he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose  no  more. 

I  looked  then  after  Christian,  to  see  him  go  up  the  hill,  where  I 
perceived  he  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  clamber- 
ing, upon  his  hands  and  knees,  because  of  the  steepness  of  the  place. 
Now,  about  the  mid-way  to  the  top  of  the  hill  was  a  pleasant  arbor, 
made  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  for  the  refreshing  of  weary  travellers. 
Thither  therefore  Christian  got,  where  also  he  sat  down  to  rest  him. 
Then  he  pulled  his  roll  out  of  his  bosom,  and  read  therein  to  his 
comfort.  He  also  now  began  afresh  to  take  a  review  of  the  coat,  or 
garment,  that  was  given  him  as  he  stood  by  the  cross.  Thus  pleasing 
himself  a  while,  he  at  last  fell  into  a  slumber,  and  thence  into  a  fast 
sleep,  which  detained  him  in  that  place  until  it  was  almost  night ; 
and  in  his  sleep  his  roll  fell  out  of  his  hand.  Now,  as  he  was  sleep- 
ing, there  came  one  to  him  and  waked  him,  saying,  "  Go  to  the  ant, 
thou  sluggard  ;  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise"  (Prov.  6:6).  And 
with  that  Christian  suddenly  started  up,  and  sped  on  his  way,  and 
went  apace  till  he  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

Now,  when  he  was  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  there  came  two 
men  running  against  him  amain ;  the  name  of  one  was  Timorous, 


we  are  in,"  said  they,  in  the  day  of  their 
boastful  profession.  But  the  hill  Difficulty 
has  stopped  them ;  and,  unequal  to  its  de- 
mands upon  their  strength,  they  betake 
themselves  right  and  left,  to  the  "two  other 
ways,"  that  promised \o  obviate  the  difficulty 
of  the  ascent,  and  to  conduct  to  the  same 
destination  by-and-by.  The  result  is  well 
described  in  the  names  of  these  two  paths — 
Danger  and  Destruction. 

Running,  going,  c/ambering. — Here  is  the 
Christian  man  brought  face  to  face  with 
some  hard  lot,  some  unlooked-for  test  and 
trial  of  his  faith.  He  cheerfully  meets  the 
difficulty,  and   with   prayerful   energy  and 


energetic  supplication  he  still  climbs  the 
steep  ascent  of  Difficulty — "running,  going, 
clambering." 

A  pleasant  arbor. — There  are  times  of  re- 
freshing that  come  from  the  presence  of  the 
Lord.  The  shade  of  this  cool  retreat,  and 
the  refreshment  of  this  half-way  house,  en- 
able the  Pilgrim  to  enjoy  for  a  time  some  of 
the  privileges  he  had  received  at  the  Cross. 
He  reads  in  his  roll,  and  is  comforted.  But 
ere  long  the  wearied  traveller  nods  to  sleep, 
and  by-and-by  he  has  outslept  many  pre- 
cious hours  of  the  day,  and  night  is  drawing 
on.  He  is  awakened  by  a  voice  of  admo- 
nition, and  again  starts  upon  his  journey. 


CHRISTIAN   MEETS   MISTRUST  AND  TIMOROUS. 


90 


The  Pilo)'i))is  Pro  ogress. 

o  o 


and  of  the  other  Mistrust ;  to  whom  Christian  said,  Sirs,  what  is  the 
matter?  you  run  the  wrong-  way.  Timorous  answered  that  they 
were  going  to  the  City  of  Zion,  and  had  got  up  that  difficult  place  ; 
but,  said  he,  the  further  we  go  the  more  danger  we  meet  with; 
wherefore  we  turned,  and  are  going  back  again. 

Yes,  said  Mistrust,  for  just  before  us  lie  a  couple  of  lions  in  the 
way  (whether  sleeping  or  waking  we  know  not)  ;  and  we  could  not 
think,  if  we  came  within  reach,  but  they  would  presently  pull  us  in 
pieces. 

Then  said  Christian,  You  make  me  afraid  ;  but  wdiither  shall  I 
flee  to  be  safe?  If  I  go  back  to  mine  own  country,  that  is  prepared 
for  fire  and  brimstone,  and  I  shall  certainly  perish  there  ;  if  I  can  get 
to  the  Celestial  City,  I  am  sure  to  be  in  safety  there.  I  must  ven- 
ture ;  to  go  back  is  nothing  but  death  ;  to  go  forward  is  fear  of  death, 
and  life  everlasting  beyond  it.     I  will  yet  go  forward. 

So  Mistrust  and  Timorous  ran  down  the  hill,  and  Christian 
went  on  his  way.  But  thinking  again  of  what  he  heard  from  the 
men,  he  felt  in  his  bosom  for  his  roll,  that  he  might  read  therein  and 
be  comforted  ;  but  he  felt  and  found  it  not.  Then  was  Christian  in 
great  distress,  and  knew  not  what  to  do  ;  for  he  wanted  that  which 
used  to  relieve  him,  and  that  which  should  have  been  his  pass  into 
the  Celestial  City.     Here,  therefore,  he  began  to  be  much  perplexed, 


Timorous  and  Mistrust. — These  two  men, 
returning  from  the  onward  journey,  with 
stories  of  Hons  and  other  dangers,  represent 
the  nghtings  without  and  the  fears  within 
which  agitate  the  soul  during  seasons  of  un- 
faithfulness or  relapse.  These  men  had  no 
certain  knowledge  of  the  dangers  that 
alarmed  them.  They  did  not  tarry  fairly  to 
inquire  what  were  the  dangers,  and  how 
they  might  be  overcome,  but  at  the  first  in- 
fluence of  fear  they  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  and 
departed. 

I  will  yet  go  forward. — This  is  the  deter- 
mination of  Christian's  better  nature.  His 
faith  enables  him  to  weigh  the  certainties 
against  the  probabilities  of  the  case.  To  go 
back  is  certain  death  ;  to  go  forward  is  only 
fear  of  death.  To  return  to  Destruction  is 
to  perish ;  to  march  on  to  the  Celestial  City 
is  life  and  safety  and  salvation.  Here  is 
the  Christian  man  triumphing  over  doubts 
and  difficulties  ;  for  while  some  of  his  com- 


panions on  the  way  turn  aside,  and  others 
linger  behind,  he  pursues  his  onward  course. 

He  felt  for  his  roll. — Though  he  has  sub- 
dued his  fears  and  misgivings,  yet,  after  this 
conflict  with  opposing  doubts,  he  feels  the 
need  of  comfort,  and  accordingly  betakes 
himself  to  the  roll  of  the  parchment.  But  he 
finds  it  not  as  at  other  times.  He  has  lost 
it !  Yes,  he  has  lost  the  roll  of  his  accept- 
ance— the  passport  of  his  journey,  the  guide 
and  counsellor  of  his  pilgrimage,  his  cre- 
dential at  the  gate  of  bliss.  This  is  a  great 
loss. 

But  straightway  he  bethinks  himself  of 
his  sleep  in  the  arbor  on  the  hill,  and  deter- 
mines to  retrace  his  footsteps.  It  is  well 
when  the  conscience  can  thus  recall  the 
memory  of  the  false  step,  and  recognize  the 
beginning  of  error,  and  address  itself  to  the 
restoration  of  the  loss  sustained  thereby. 

Christian,  now  retracing  his  steps,  seeks 
to  recov-r  the  lost  credential.     This  is  al- 


Christian  discovers  his  Roll.  91 

and  knew  not  what  to  do.  At  last  lie  bethoug-ht  himsell'  char  he  had 
slept  in  the  arbor  that  is  on  the  side  of  the  hill ;  and,  falling^  down 
upon  his  knees,  he  asked  God  forgiveness  for  that  his  foolish  act, 
and  then  went  back  to  look  for  his  roll.  But  all  the  way  he  went 
back,  who  can  sufficiently  set  forth  the  sorrows  of  Christian's  heart  ? 
Sometimes  he  sighed,  somedmes  he  wept,  and  oftentimes  he  chid 
liimself  for  being  so  foolish  to  fall  asleep  in  that  place,  which  was 
erected  only  for  a  little  refreshment  for  his  weariness.  Thus  there- 
fore he  went  back,  carefully  looking  on  this  side  and  on  that,  all  the 
way  as  he  went,  if  happily  he  might  find  the  roll  that  had  been  his 
comfort  so  many  times  in  his  journey.  He  went  thus  till  he  came 
within  sight  of  the  arbor  where  he  sat  and  slept ;  but  that  sight 
renewed  his  sorrow  the  more,  by  bringing  back,  even  afresh,  his 
evil  of  sleeping  unto  his  mind  (i  Thess.  5  :  '],'^\  Rev.  2  :  4,  5). 
Thus  therefore  he  now  went  on  bewailing  his  sinful  sleep,  saying,  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am  !  that  I  should  have  slept  in  the  daytime  ! 
that  I  should  sleep  in  the  midst  of  difficulty  !  that  I  should  so  indulge 
the  flesh  as  to  use  that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh,  which  the  Lord  of 
the  hill  hath  erected  only  for  the  relief  of  the  spirits  of  pilgrims  ! 
How  many  steps  have  I  taken  in  vain  !  Thus  it  happened  to  Israel, 
for  their  sin  ;  they  were  sent  back  again  by  the  way  of  the  Red  Sea ; 
and  I  am  made  to  tread  those  steps  with  sorrow,  which  I  might  have 
trod  with  delight,  had  it  not  been  for  this  sinful  sleep.  How  far 
might  I  have  been  on  my  way  by  this  time  !  I  am  made  to  tread 
those  steps  thrice  over,  which  I  needed  to  have  trod  but  once  ;  yea, 
now  also  I  am  like  to  be  benighted,  for  the  day  is  almost  spent.  Oh, 
that  I  had  not  slept ! 

Now  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbor  again,  where  for  a 
while  he  sat  down  and  wept ;  but  at  last  (as  Christian  would  have  it), 
looking  sorrowfully  down  under  the  settle,  there  he  espied  his  roll ; 


ways  weary  work,  filled  with  repinings  and 
self-reproaches.  Hence  the  feeling  of  the 
Pilgrim's  mind ;  he  sighed,  and  wept,  and 
did  chide  himself.  This  retreating  journey 
is  meant  to  indicate  the  painful  ordeal  and 
the  anxious  interval  between  conviction  of 
a  specific  sin  and  the  return  of  confidence 
by  the  restoration  of  the  sinner.  This  dis- 
quietude of  spiritual  experience  is  felt  in 
smaller  as  in  larger  deviations,  according  as 
the  conscience  is  tender,  sensitive,  and  true. 


what  was  the  effect  upon  that  young  Chris- 
tian's mind  of  one  occasion  of  neglect  of 
private  devotion.  "  My  soul  was  the  worse 
for  it,"  he  said,  "for  nearly  three  weeks 
afterwards." 

He  espied  his  roll. — These  darksome  days, 
no  doubt,  ofttimes  overcast  the  pilgrimage; 
but  earnest  faith  will  strive  to  look  through 
them ;  and  by  diligence,  and  prayer,  and 
assisting  grace,  the  Pilgrim  will  work  out  of 
them,  and  regain  his  lost  assurance  and  con- 


In  the  "  Life  of  Hedley  Vicars,"  we  are  told  1  fidence  in  God.     Christian   has   now  re- 


^^ 


The  Pilgrim  s  Pi- ogre  si. 


the  which  he  with  trembling  and  haste  catched  up  and  put  into  nis 
bosom.  But  who  can  tell  how  joyful  this  man  was  when  he  had  got- 
ten his  roll  ao-ain  ?  For  this  roll  was  the  assurance  of  his  life,  and 
acceptance  at  the  desired  haven.  Therefore  he  laid  it  up  in  his 
bosom,  gave  thanks  to  God  for  directing  his  eye  to  the  place  where 
it  lay,  and  with  joy  and  tears  betook  himself  again  to  his  journey. 
But  oh,  how  nimbly  now  did  he  go  up  the  rest  of  the  hill !  Yet  be- 
fore he  got  up,  the  sun  went  down  upon  Christian  ;  and  this  made 
him  again  recall  the  vanity  of  his  sleeping  to  his  remembrance  ;  and 
thus  he  again  began  to  condole  himself:  O  thou  sinful  sleep!  how 
for  thy  sake  am  I  like  to  be  benighted  in  my  journey !  I  must  walk 
without  the  sun,  darkness  must  cover  the  path  of  my  feet,  and  I  must 
hear  the  noise  of  doleful  creatures,  because  of  my  sinful  sleep  ! — Now 
also  he  remembered  the  story  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous  told  him 
of,  how  they  were  frightened  with  the  sight  of  the  lions.  Then  said 
Christian  to  himself  again.  These  beasts  range  in  the  night  for  their 
prey ;  and  if  they  should  meet  with  me  in  the  dark,  how  should  I 
shift  them  ?  how  should  I  escape  being  by  them  torn  in  pieces  ?  Thus 
he  went  on  his  way.  But,  while  he  was  thus  bewailing  his  unhappy 
miscarriage,  he  lift  up  his  eyes,  and  behold  there  was  a  very^  stately 
palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was  Beautiful,  and  it  stood  just 
on  the  highway  side. 


covered   the  lost   roll ;    he  once  again  has 
peace  with  God. 

The  sun  went  down. — Although  sin  may 
be  forgiven,  and  confidence  restored,  there 
will  yet  be  felt  for  a  time  the  evil  conse- 
quences of  our  offending.  In  this  case, 
many  valuable  hours  of  the  work-day  had 
been  lost  in  sleep,  and  still  further  loss  had 
been  sustained  in  striving  to  recover  the 
missing  roll.  The  consequence  is  that  even- 
tide and  nightfall  descend  on  the  pilgrim 
ere  he  has  accomplished  that  day's  journey  ; 
and  with  the  darkness  all  the  associations 
of  darkness  gather  round  him — the  fears 
and  fancies,  the  terrors  and  alarms  of  the 


night  season.  The  stor)'  of  the  lions,  too, 
seems  to  him  to  be  more  likely  to  be  true  ; 
and  his  disquietude  is  therefore  all  the  more 
augmented. 

A  very  stately  palace. — God  is  with  the 
Pilgrim,  and  His  providence  conducts  him ; 
so  that,  in  the  midst  of  his  sorrows  and  be- 
wailings,  he  is  guided  to  a  place  of  light 
and  comfort  and  refreshment—  the  Palace 
Beautiful — one  of  those  resting-places  on  the 
way,  which  are  designed  to  impart  fresh 
spiritual  light  and  new  spiritual  strength,  ere 
the  Pilgrim  betakes  himself  to  the  greater 
perils  and  graver  responsibilities  of  the 
onward  journey. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Palace  Beautiful. 

Im  the  Palace  Beautiful  our  Pilgrim  finds  comfort,  refreshment,  and  renewed  strci.,  .< 
after  the  loneliness  and  desolation  of  that  memorable  day  and  that  eventful  eventide.  An 
his  loss  of  peace,  and  loss  of  confidence,  and  loss  of  time,  is  now  compensated  by  the  un- 
speakable gain  of  this  godly  communion  and  Christian  fellowship,  in  which  he  abides  from 
day  to  day,  and  through  which  he  is  enabled,  in  Christian  conversation,  to  review  the  past, 
thereby  impressing  the  thoughts  and  scenes  of  the  pilgrimage  more  and  more  upon  his 
mind  and  conscience. 

|0  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  made  haste  and  went  for- 
ward, that  if  possible  he  might  get  lodging  diere.  Now 
before  he  had  gone  far,  he  entered  into  a  very  narrow 
passage,  which  was  about  a  furlong  off  of  the  Porter's 
lodge  ;  and,  looking  very  narrowly  before  him  as  he  went, 
he  espied  two  lions  in  the  way.  Now,  thought  he,  I  see  the  danger 
that  Mistrust  and  Timorous  were  driven  back  by.      (The  lions  were 


//e  espied  two  lions. — These  were  proba- 
bly the  Uons  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous 
saw,  and  by  the  sight  of  which  they  were 
turned  back  again.  These  lions  were  placed 
in  a  narrow  path,  so  that  there  appeared  but 
little  way  of  escape  for  those  that  would 
pass  by  that  way. 

Many  apparent  spiritual  degrees  seem 
formidable  until  they  are  more  closely  ex- 
amined by  the  eye  of  faith  and  with  confi- 
dence in  God.  Ignorance  ofttimes  exagger- 
ates threatening  danger,  as  it  sees  not  and 
knows  not  the  restraining  power  of  Divine 
grace.  Mistrust  and  Timorous  could  not 
tell  whether  the  lions  were  "sleeping"  or 
"waking; '■  the  very  sight  of  the  lions  in 
the  distance  alarmed  them.  Christian's 
ignorance,  too,  had  well-nigh  driven  him 
back;  for  "the  lions  were  chained,  but  he 
saw  not  the  chains."  It  was  the  kind  and 
timely  voice  of  the  porter.  Watchful,  that 
dispelled  his  fears  by  dispelling  his  ignor- 
ance, informing  him  that  these  Hons  were 
for  the   probation  of  faith,  and   would   be 


harmless  if  he  would  only  walk  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  path. 

How  greatly  do  these  messages  of  God's 
ambassadors  strengthen  the  pilgrims  of  Zion 
and  embolden  them  in  the  midst  of  danger  ! 
Here  were  rampant,  roaring  lions ;  not 
asleep,  but  awake,  in  a  narrow  passage,  and 
very  near;  but  they  were  "  chained."  This 
announcement  makes  all  the  difference. 
Mistrust  and  Timorous  might  also  have 
heard  the  good  Porter's  news,  only  they 
came  not  near  enough,  but  fled  at  the  first 
view  of  the  seeming  danger.  Suspicion  is 
the  child  of  little  knowledge  ;  therefore  let 
it  know  more,  and  see  more  thoroughly. 
Knowledge  looks  with  open  face,  and  there- 
fore sees  all  things  plainly. 

There  are  some  who  think  they  see  in 
this  story  of  'the  lions"  a  political  allusion 
to  the  civil  penalties  and  disabilities  of  the 
period.  This  is  not  at  all  improbable,  though 
the  expression  is  so  worded  as  to  convey  a 
purely  spiritual  meaning  to  the  reader. 
This,  indeed,  is  one  of  the  excellences  of 


(93) 


c/2 

Z 
O 


X 
< 


< 
P 

u 


Chidstian  arrives  at  the  Palace  Beautiful. 


95 


chained,  but  he  saw  not  the  chains.)  Then  he  was  afraid,  and 
thought  also  himself  to  go  back  after  them  ;  for  he  thought  nothing 
but  death  was  before  him.  But  the  porter  at  tlie  lodge,  whose  name 
is  Watchful,  perceiving  that  Christian  made  a  halt,  as  if  he  would  go 
back,  cried  unto  him,  saying,  Is  thy  strength  so  small  ?  (Mark  4  :  40. ) 
Fear  not  the  lions,  for  they  are  chained,  and  are  placed  there  for 
trial  of  faith  where  it  is,  and  for  discovery  of  those  that  have  none  ; 
keep  in  the  midst  of  the  path,  and  no  hurt  shall  come  to  thee. 

Then  I  saw  that  he  went  on  trembling  for  fear  of  the  lions ;  but 
taking  good  heed  to  the  directions  of  the  Porter,  he  heard  them  roar, 
but  they  did  him  no  harm.  Then  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  went  on 
till  he  came  and  stood  before  the  gate  where  the  Porter  was.  'i'hen 
said  Christian  to  the  Porter,  Sir,  what  house  is  this  ?  and  may  I  lodge 
here  to-night?  The  Porter  answered,  This  house  was  built  by  the 
Lord  of  the  hill,  and  he  built  it  for  the  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims. 
The  Porter  also  asked  whence  he  was?  and  whither  he  was  going? 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to 
Mount  Zion  ;  but  because  the  sun  is  now  set,  I  desire,  if  I  may,  to 
lodge  here  to-night. 

For.  What  is  your  name? 

Chr.  My  name  is  now  Christian,  but  my  name  at  the  first  was 
Graceless  ;  I  came  of  the  race  of  Japheth,  whom  God  will  persuade 
to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem  (Gen.  9:  27). 

PoR.  But  how  doth  it  happen,  that  you  come  so  late?  The  sun 
is  set. 


the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  that  it  is  written 
lor  all  time ;  and  even  long  after  its  local 
and  political  allusions  have  been  lost  sight 
of,  its  deep  spiritual  meaning  remains,  for 
the  admonition  and  encouragement  of  pil- 
grims. 

What  house  is  this  ? — As  yet  he  knows 
not  what  provision  of  grace  is  here  stored 
up  for  him.  He  has  realized  his  loss  ;  has 
suffered  by  delay  ;  has  been  alarmed  by  the 
darkness  and  other  dangers  ;  and  now  a 
light  suddenly  appears,  and  a  stately  man- 
sion by  the  wayside  This  is  the  Palace 
Beautiful,  with  its  fair  inhabitants,  and  its 
blessed  companionships,  and  its  heavenly 
communion,  and  its  rich  store  of  provision 
for  the  onward  scenes  and  stages  of  the 
Pilgrimage — another  house  of  call  for  the 
wayfaring  pilgrims  of  Zion.     It  is  of   the 


Lord's  own  building ;  it  is  the  Master's  own 
merciful  appointment — "  for  the  relief  and 
security  of  pilgrims."  There  are  they  housed 
in  the  time  of  peril;  there  "shut  in''  till 
greater  strength  is  given  for  greater  need  ; 
and  forth  from  the  fellowship  of  the  saints 
they  proceed  upon  their  way,  stronger,  wiser, 
better  men. 

My  fiame  was  Graceless. — From  the  out 
set  of  the  pilgrimage  the  Pilgrim  has  been 
called  by  the  name  of  Christian.  But 
this  was  not  always  his  name.  This  is  his 
"new  name."  And  before  this  was  given 
him,  he  was  called  Graceless  This  was 
the  name  by  which  he  was  c  lied  in  tht 
City  of  Destruction,  until  God  opened  his 
eves  to  behold  his  state  in  sin,  and  gave  him. 
grace  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  He 
was  by  nature  without  grace,  and  therefore 


96 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Chr.  I  had  been  here  sooner,  but  that,  wretched  man  that  I  am,  I 
slept  in  the  arbor  that  stands  on  the  hillside.  Nay,  I  had,  notwith- 
standing that,  been  here  much  sooner,  but  that  in  my  sleep  I  lost  my 
evidence,  and  came  without  it  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  ;  and  then, 
feeling;  for  it  and  finding  it  not,  I  was  forced  with  sorrow  of  heart  to 
go  back  to  the  place  where  I  slept  my  sleep  ;  where  I  found  it,  and 
now  I  am  come. 

PoR.  Well,  I  will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this  place,  who  will, 
if  she  likes  your  talk,  bring  you  in  to  the  rest  of  the  family,  according 
to  the  rules  of  the  house.  So  Watchful  the  porter  rang  a  bell,  at  the 
sound  of  which  came  out  at  the  door  of  the  house  a  grave  and  beau- 
tiful damsel,  named  Discretion,  and  asked  why  she  was  called. 

The  Porter  answered,  This  man  is  in  a  journey  from  the  City  of 
Destruction  to  Mount  Zion  ;  but,  being  weary  and  benighted,  he  asked 
me  if  he  might  lodge  here  to-night ;  so  I  told  him  I  would  call  for 
thee,  who,  after  discourse  had  with  him,  mayest  do  as  eemeth  thee 
good,  even  according  to  the  law  of  the  house. 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was,  and  whither  he  was  going ; 
and  he  told  her.  She  asked  him  also  how  he  got  into  the  way ;  and 
he  told  her.  Then  she  asked  him  what  he  had  seen  and  met  with  in  the 
way  ;  and  he  told  her.  And  at  last  she  asked  his  name.  So  he  said, 
It  is  Christian ;  and  I  have  so  much  the  more  a  desire  to  lodge  here 
to-night,  because,  by  what  I  perceive,  this  place  was  built  by  the  Lord 
of  the  hill  for  the  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims.  So  she  smiled,  but 
the  water  stood  in  her  eyes ;  and  after  a  litde  pause  she  said,  I  will 


Graceless;  but  now  he  is  ivith  Christ, 
and  therefore  he  is  called  by  the  name  of 
Christian. 

The  sun  is  set. — Ah,  here  again  is  the  re- 
membrance of  his  sin — that  sleep  which  he 
slept  in  the  arbor  on  the  hill.  That  slum- 
ber, and  the  loss  of  his  evidence,  kept  him 
back  from  the  communion  of  saints  and 
from  the  refreshment  of  Christian  inter- 
course. Alas,  how  these  sins  intercept  the 
path,  and  hinder  the  journey  !  By  the  time 
that  sleep  is  slept  out,  and  the  roll  lost,  and 
the  loss  discovered,  and  the  missing  evi- 
dence regained,  and  the  hill  climbed  again, 
the  day  has  been  far  spent,  and  "the  sun 
has  set." 

Weary  and  benighted. — It  is  very  plain 
that  this  palace  was  designed  as  a  refuge  for 
the  wp.ffarer,  and  that  its  asylum  would  be 


most  acceptable  to  those  pilgrims  who  are 
most  exposed  to  the  sorrows  and  hardships 
of  the  way.  Christian  communion  is  at  all 
times  useful,  but  particularly  so  when  we 
meet  with  spiritual  losses,  and  consequently 
experience  more  or  less  of  spiritual  depres- 
sion. In  days  of  weariness,  and  nights 
clouded  with  gloom,  how  reassuring  is  the 
pressure  of  a  friendly  hand,  the  encourage- 
ment of  a  famihar  voice,  the  company  of  a 
faithful  friend  ! 

For  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims. — This 
was  the  twofold  use  of  the  Palace  Beautiful 
— "  relief"  from  the  toil  and  travail  of  the 
road,  and  "  security  "  from  danger,  seen  and 
unseen,  present  and  to  come. 

The    principal    members    of  this    house- 
hold of  faith  are  called  DiscufniMN,  Pru 
DENCE,    Piety,   and    Chakjtv.     By  thes9 


Christian  enters  the  Palace, 


dT 


CHRISTIAN  IS  QUESTIONED  BY  DISCRETION. 

call  forth  two  or  three  more  of  the  family.  So  she  ran  to  the  door 
and  called  out  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity,  who,  after  a  litde  more 
discourse  with  him,  had  him  into  the  family  ;  and  many  of  them 
meedng  him  at  the  threshold  of  the  house  said.  Come  in,  thou  blessed 
of  the  Lord;  this  house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  on  purpose 
to  entertain  such  pilgrims  in.     Then  he  bowed  his  head,  and  followed 


names  are  indicated  the  heavenly  vir- 
tues and  the  graces  of  the  Spirit :  Discre- 
tion appertaining  to  the  jintellect  and  judg- 
ment;  Prudence  affecting  the  interests 
of  the  life  now  present  and  also  of  that 
which  is  to  come  ;  Piety  regulating  the  de 
votions  of  the  soul  and  spirit ;  and  Char- 
ity discharging  all  the  duties  of  love  to 
God  and  to  our  fellow-men.  Some  one  has 
pithily  remarked,  in  reference  to  this  scene 
an  i  stage  of  the  Pilgrim's  experience;  "  How 


'  beautiful '  must  that  Church  be  wher» 
Watchful  is  the  porter ;  where  Dis- 
cretion governs ;  where  Prudence  takes 
the  oversight ;  where  Piety  conducts  the 
worship ;  and  where  Charity  endears  the 
the  members  one  to  another  1" 

The  introduction  of  the  Pilgrim  to  the 
palace  devolves  upon  Discretion,  who 
also  conducts  the  preliminary  conversation. 
She  ascertains  the  past  history  of  Chris- 
tian— «ihence  he  has  come,  and  whither  he 


98 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


them  into  the  house.  So  when  he  was  come  in  and  set  down  they 
^ave  him  something  to  drink,  and  consented  together,  that  until  supper 
was  ready  some  of  them  should  have  some  particular  discourse  with 
Christian,  for  the  best  improvement  of  time;  and  they  appointed 
Piety  and  Prudence  and  Charity  to  discourse  with  him ;  and  thus 
they  began. 

Pi.  Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been  so  loving  to  you 
to  receive  you  into  our  house  this  night,  let  us,  if  perhaps  we  may 
better  ourselves  thereby,  talk  with  you  of  all  things  that  have  hap- 
pened to  you  in  your  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  With  a  very  good  will ;  and  I  am  glad  you  are  so  well 
disposed. 

Pi.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself  to  a  pilgrim's 
life? 

Chr.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by  a  dreadful  sound 
that  was  in  mine  ears  ;  to  wit,  that  unavoidable  destruction  did  attend 
me  if  I  abode  in  that  place  where  I  was. 

Pi.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of  your  country 
this  way  ? 

Chr.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it ;  for  when  I  was  under  the 
fears  of  destruction,  I  did  not  know  whither  to  go ;  but  by  chance 
there  came  a  man  even  to  me,  as  I  was  trembling  and  weeping,  whose 
name  is  Evangelist,  and  he  directed  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  which  else 
I  should  never  have  found,  and  so  set  me  into  the  way  that  hath  led 
me  directly  to  this  house. 

Pi.   But  did  you  not  come  by  the  house  of  the  Interpreter  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there,  the  remembrance  of 


is  going.  He  is  also  straitly  questioned  as 
to  how  he  entered  the  way ;  for  none  can  be 
made  partakers  of  the  blessedness  of  that 
fair  house  and  of  its  goodly  company,  but 
they  who  have  entered  by  the  Wicket-gate. 
Last  of  all,  she  inquires  his  name.  Names 
are  no  passport  in  spiritual  things ;  it  is  the 
inward  man,  and  not  the  outward  name, 
that  insures  admittance  to  the  true  fellow- 
ship of  the  saints  and  of  the  household  of 
God.  Therefore,  not  the  first,  but  the  last 
of  the  questions  is  that  concerning  the  Pil- 
grim's name. 

In  the  conversations  that  ensue,  Piety 
is  the  first  to  speak.  She  inquires  into  the 
j. 'I ward  motives  that  prompted  the  Pilgrim 


to  this  pilgrimage.  Christian's  answer 
to  this  inquiry  opens  up  afresh  the  memory 
of  his  flight  from  the  City  of  Destruction. 
He  tells  of  the  "  dreadful  sound  "  by  which 
he  was  "driven  out"  of  his  native  land. 
Wrath  from  without,  conviction  from  within, 
and  both  these  working  upon  conscience — 
deep  calling  unto  deep — created  that  "dread- 
ful sound,"  so  that  the  man  was  "  driven  " 
to  flight.  The  further  questions  proposed 
by  Piety  reproduce  the  narrative  of  the 
preceding  scenes  of  the  pilgrimage,  includ- 
ing the  Wicket-gate,  the  illustrations  of  the 
Interpreter's  House,  the  sight  of  One  who 
did  hang  bleeding  upon  a  tree,  the  tokens 
and  credentials  given  him  at  the  Cross,  and 


The  Maidens  question  Christian. 


99 


which  will  stick  by  me  as  long  as  I  live  ;  especially  three  things  :  to 
wit,  how  Christ,  in  spite  of  Satan,  maintains  his  work  of  grace  in  the 
heart ;  how  the  man  had  sinned  himself  quite  out  of  hopes  of  God's 
mercy ;  and  also  the  dream  of  him  that  thought  in  his  sltep  the  day 
of  judgment  was  come. 

Pi.  Why,  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  a  dreadful  dream  it  was,  I  thought ;  it  made  my 
heart  ache  as  he  was  telling  of  it ;  but  yet  I  am  glad  I  heard  it. 

Pi.  Was  this  all  you  saw  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter? 

Chr.  No  ;  he  took  me  and  had  me  where  he  showed  me  a 
stately  palace,  and  how  the  people  were  clad  in  gold  that  were  in  it, 
and  how  there  came  a  venturous  man,  and  cut  his  way  through  the 
armed  men  that  stood  in  the  door  to  keep  him  out;  and  how  he  was 
bid  to  come  in  and  win  eternal  glory.  Methought  those  things  did 
ravish  my  heart.  I  would  have  staid  at  that  good  man's  house  a 
twelvemonth  but  that  I  knew  I  had  further  to  go. 

Pi.    And  what  saw  you  else  in  the  way  ? 

Chr.  Saw !  why  I  went  but  a  little  further,  and  1  saw  One,  as  1 
thought  in  my  mind,  hang  bleeding  upon  a  tree ;  the  very  sight  of 
him  made  my  burden  fall  off  my  back  ;  for  I  groaned  under  a  heavy 
burden,  but  then  it  fell  down  from  off  me.  It  was  a  strange  thing  to 
me,  for  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  before  ;  yea,  and  while  I  stood  looking 
up  (for  then  I  could  not  forbear  looking),  three  shining  ones  came  to 
me ;  one  of  them  testified  that  my  sins  were  forgiven  me  ;  another 
stripped  me  of  my  rags,  and  gave  me  this  broidered  coat  which  you 
see ;  and  the  third  set  the  mark  which  you  see  in  my  forehead,  and 
gave  me  this  sealed  roll — and  with  that  he  plucked  it  out  of  his 
bosom. 


the  unworthy  companions  that  met  him  on 
the  way.  Then  the  Pilgrim  reports  progress, 
and  explains  his  past  experiences. 

Prudence  next  engages  the  Pilgrim  in 
conversation.  She  enters  not  so  much  into 
the  motives  and  feehngs  of  the  past,  as  into 
his  thoughts  and  feelings  for  the  present — 
those  inward  phases  of  the  soul's  reflection, 
when,  having  forsaken  the  old  things,  a  new 
life  is  to  be  lived,  on  new  and  better  princi- 
ples. It  is  important  we  should  ourselves 
inquire  whether  any  vain  regrets  intertwine 
themselves  with  our  present  obedience; 
whether  an  earnest  strife  is  waged  against 
the  carnal  thoughts  that  rise  within  us,  and 


whether  that  strife  is  crowned  with  vict'^ry, 
so  that  carnal  things  are  "  vanquished,"  and 
die  within  us. 

The  "golden  hours"  of  the  Pilgrim's  tri- 
umphs over  carnal  things,  and  holy  contem 
plation  of  heavenly  things,  are  seasons  much 
to  be  desired — those  blessed  seasons  of  the 
soul's  health  and  well-being,  when  the  Cross 
is  held  full  in  view,  and  the  glory  of  the 
Robe  of  Righteousness  is  seen,  and  the 
comforts  of  the  Roll  refresh  the  spirit,  and 
all  the  blissful  thoughts  and  prospects  of 
final  blessedness  kindle  the  fire  of  a  holy 
fervor  and  enthusiasm  in  the  man  of  God. 
Aye,  these  are  the  thoughts  that  hft  us  heav- 


100 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Pi.   But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not? 

Chr.  The  things  that  I  have  told  you  were  the  best ;  yet  s(jme 
other  matters  I  saw  ;  as  namely,  I  saw  three  men,  Simple,  Sloiii.  and 
Presumption,  lie  asleep,  a  little  out  of  the  way  as  I  came,  with  irons 
upon  their  heels  ;  but  do  you  think  I  could  awake  them?  I  also  saw 
F'jrmalist  and  Hypocrisy  come  tumbling  over  the  wall,  to  go,  as  they 
pr*^  tended,  to  Zion  ;  but  they  were  quickly  lost;  even  as  I  myself  did 
tell  them,  biit  they  did  not  believe.  But,  above  all,  I  found  it  hard 
work  to  get  v.p  this  hill,  and  as  hard  to  come  by  the  lions'  mouths  ; 
and  truly,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  good  man  the  porter,  that  stands 
at  the  gate,  I  do  not  know  but  that,  after  all,  I  might  have  gone  back 
again  ;  but  now  I  thank  God,  I  am  here  ;  and  thank  you  for  receiv- 
ing of  me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a  few  questions,  and 
desired  his  answer  to  them. 

Pr.  Do  you  think  sometimes  of  the  country  from  whence  you 
came  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  with  much  shame  and  detestation.  Truly,  "if  I 
had  been  mindful  of  that  country  from  whence  I  came  out  I  might  have 
had  opportunity  to  have  returned  ;  but  now  I  desire  a  better  country, 
that  is  heavenly"    (Heb.  ii  :   15,  16). 

Pr.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  you  some  of  the  things  that 
then  you  were  conversant  withal. 

Chr.  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will  ;  especially  my  inward 
and  carnal  cogitations,  with  which  all  my  countrymen,  as  well  as 
myself,  were  delighted  ;  but  now  all  those  things  are  my  grief  ;  and 
might  I  choose  mine  own  things,  I  would  choose  never  to  think  of 
those  things  more  ;  but,  when  I  would  be  doing  of  that  which  is  best, 
that  which  is  worst  is  with  me   (Rom.  7:    15-23). 

Pr.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things  were  van- 
quished which  at  other  times  are  your  perplexity  ? 


enward — the  hope  of  meeting  with  the  Liv- 
ing Lord,  and  of  finding  full  exemption  from 
the  influence  of  sin,  and  the  endless  enjoy- 
ment of  immortality  ;  and  all  these  feelings 
quickened  by  the  love  we  bear  to  Jesus,  who 
Irith  first  loved  us,  and  hath  redeemed  us 
'lom  sin  and  death. 

Charity  continues  the  communion  and 
•ollowship  of  heart  with  heart.  She  inquires 
ibout  his  home  and  family,  and  how  it  is 
'.Iiey  have  not  joined  him  in  his  pilgrimage, 


and  whether  blame  attaches  to  him  for  any 
neglect  on  his  part  of  their  spiritual  inter- 
ests. To  all  these  inquiries  Christian  an- 
swers truthfully  and  well  His  wife  would 
not  resign  the  world  and  the  pleasures  of 
the  world;  and  his  children  would  not  sur- 
render the  pleasures  of  youth  ;  and  thus  did 
the  spell  of  workiliness  liind  them  to  carnal 
things.  Christian  witnesses  a  good  con-' 
fession  before  these  damsels  of  the  palace, 
and  is  commended  for  his  faithful  efforts  to 


102 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Chr.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom  ;  but  they  are  to  me  golden 
hours  in  which  such  things  happen  to  me. 

Pk.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find  your  annoyances 
at  times  as  if  they  were  vanquished? 

CiiR.  Yes  ;  when  I  think  what  I  saw  at  the  cross,  that  will  do  it; 
and  when  I  look  upon  my  broidered  coat,  that  will  do  it;  also  when  I 
look  into  the  roll  that  I  carry  in  my  bosom,  that  will  do  it;  and  when 
my  thoughts  wax  warm  about  whither  I  am  going,  that  will  do  it. 

Pk.  And  what  is  it  that  makes  you  so  desirous  to  go  to  Mount 
Zion  ? 

Chr.  Why,  there  I  hope  to  see  him  alive  that  did  hang  dead  on 
the  cross  ;  and  there  I  hope  to  be  rid  of  all  those  things  that  to  this 
day  are  in  me  an  annoyance  to  me;  there  they  say  there  is  no  death  ; 
and  there  I  shall  dwell  with  such  company  as  I  like  best  (Isa.  25: 
8;  Rev.  21  :  4).  For  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  love  him  because  I  was 
by  him  eased  of  my  burden  ;  and  I  am  weary  of  my  inward  sickness. 
1  would  fain  be  where  I  should  die  no  more,  and  with  the  company 
that  shall  continually  cry,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy." 

Then  said  Charity  to  Christian,  Have  you  a  family?  are  you  a 
married  man? 

Chr.    I  have  a  wife  and  four  small  children. 

Char.    And  why  did  you  not  bring  them  along  with  you  ? 

Then  Christian  wept,  and  said.  Oh,  how  willingly  would  I  have 
done  it !  but  they  were  all  of  them  utterly  averse  to  my  going  on 
pilgrimage. 

Char.  But  you  should  have  talked  to  them,  and  have  endeav- 
ored to  show  them  the  danger  of  being  left  behind. 

Chr.  So  I  did;  and  told  them  also  that  God  had  showed  to  me 
of  the  destruction  of  our  city;  but  I  seemed  to  them  as  one  that 
mocked,  and  they  believed  me  not  (Gen.  19  :    14). 

Char.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  he  would  bless  your 
counsel  to  them? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection  ;  for  you  must  think 
that  my  wife  and  poor  children  were  very  dear  unto  me. 


win  his  family  to  Christ — "  Thou  hast  dehv- 
ered  thy  soul  from  their  blood !" 

This  allusion  to  the  number  of  his  chil- 
dren answers  to  the  number  of  Bunyan's 
family,  at  the  time  of  his  writing  the  Prog- 
ress. He  had  a  wife,  two  sons,  and  two 
daughters.     Mr.  Offor  informs  us,  in  a  note 


to  his  edition,  that  "this  conversation  was 
first  published  in  the  second  edition,  1678." 
At  that  time,  however,  his  wife  and  children 
were  fellow-pilgrims  with  their  father.  Mr. 
Offor  further  observes  that  Bunyan's  "eldest 
son  was  a  preacher  eleven  years  before  the 
second  part  of  the  Pilgrim  was  published." 


The  Maidefis  question   Christian.  lO^j^ 

Char.  But  did  you  tell  them  your  own  sorrow,  and  fear  o' 
destruction?  for  I  suppose  that  destruction  was  visible  enough  to  you 

Chr.  Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over.  They  might  also  see  my 
fears  in  my  countenance,  in  my  tears,  and  also  in  my  trembling 
under  the  apprehension  of  the  judgments  that  did  hang  over  our 
heads ;  but  all  was  not  sufficient  to  prevail  with  them  to  come 
with  me. 

Char.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves  why  they 
came  not? 

Chr.  Why,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world,  and  my 
children  were  given  to  the  foolish  delights  of  youth  ;  so,  what  by 
one  thing,  and  what  by  another,  they  left  me  to  wander  in  this 
manner  alone. 

Char.  But  did  you  not  with  your  vain  life  damp  all  that  you  by 
words  used  by  way  of  persuasion  to  bring  them  away  with  you  ? 

Chr,  Indeed  I  cannot  commend  my  life,  for  I  am  conscious  to 
myself  of  many  failings  therein.  I  know  also  that  a  man  by  his 
conversation  may  soon  overthrow  what  by  argument  or  persuasion 
he  doth  labor  to  fasten  upon  others  for  their  good.  Yet  this  I  can 
say,  I  was  very  wary  of  giving  them  occasion,  by  any  unseemly 
action,  to  make  them  averse  to  going  on  pilgrimage.  Yea,  for  this 
very  thing  they  would  tell  me  I  was  too  precise,  and  that  I  denied 
myself  of  things  (for  their  sakes)  in  which  they  saw  no  evil.  Nay, 
I  think  I  may  say  that,  if  what  they  saw  in  me  did  hinder  them,  it 
was  my  great  tenderness  in  sinning  against  God,  or  of  doing  any 
wrong  to  my  neighbor. 

Char.  Indeed  "Cain  hated  his  brother,  because  his  own  works 
were  evil,  and  his  brother's  righteous"  (i  John  3  :  12);  and,  if  thy 
wife  and  children  have  been  offended  with  thee  for  this,  they  thereby 
show  themselves  to  be  implacable  to  good  ;  and  thou  hast  delivered 
thy  soul  from  their  blood   (Ezek.  3  :    19). 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  thus  they  sat  talking  together 
until  supper  was  ready.     So  when  they  had  made  ready  they  sat 


Now  I  saw  in  tny  dreams. — The  dream 
continues ;  their  sweet  communion  has  not 
yet  ended.  From  words  of  conversation, 
the  sisters  of  the  household  conduct  their 
guest  to  "a  feast  of  fat  things"  for  his  re- 
freshment. Whether  Bunyan  means  by 
this  the  ordinary  domestic  entertainment  of 


feast — the  Supper  of  the  Lord — we  do  not 
here  decide  We  think  he  has  wisely  and 
judiciously  left  it  open  to  either  interpreta- 
tion, or  both.  But  this  much,  at  all  events, 
is  evident,  that  "all  their  talk  at  the  table 
was  about  the  Lord  of  the  Hill."  Well  it 
is  for  those  families  and  those  communions 


Christian  fellowship,  or  the  more  spiritual  j   whose  talk  is  of  Jesus  when  they  meet  to- 


104 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


down  to  meat.  Now  the  table  was  furnished  with  fat  things,  and 
with  wine  that  was  well  refined ;  and  all  their  talk  at  the  table  was 
about  the  Lord  of  the  hill ;  as,  namely,  about  what  he  had  done, 
and  wherefore  he  did  what  he  did,  and  why  he  had  builded  that 
house ;  and  by  what  they  said  I  perceived  that  he  had  been  a  great 
warrior,  and  had  fought  with  and  slain  him  that  had  the  power  of 
death;  but  not  without  great  danger  to  himself;  which  made  me 
love  him  the  more  (Heb.  2:   14,  15). 

For,  as  they  said,  and  as  I  believe,  said  Christian,  he  did  it  with 
the  loss  of  much  blood.  But  that  which  put  glory  of  grace  into  all 
he  did  was,  that  he  did  it  of  pure  love  to  his  country.  And  besides 
there  were  some  of  them  of  the  household  that  said,  they  had  seen 
and  spoken  with  him  since  he  did  die  on  the  cross  ;  and  they  have 
attested  that  they  had  it  from  his  own  lips,  that  he  is  such  a  lover 
of  poor  pilgrims,  that  the  like  is  not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the 
west. 

They,  moreover,  gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affirmed,  and  that 
was,  he  had  stripped  himself  of  his  glory  that  he  might  do  this  for 
the  poor;  and  that  they  heard  him  say  and  affirm,  that  he  would 
not  dwell  in  the  mountain  of  Zion  alone.  They  said,  moreover,  that 
he  had  made  many  pilgrims  princes,  though  by  nature  they  were 
beggars  born,  and  their  original  had  been  the  dunghill  (i  Sam.  2:8; 
Ps.  113:  7,  8).     _ 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  till  late  at  night ;  and  after  they 
committed   themselves  to  their   Lord    for   protection,  they  betook 


gether  for  bodily  or  for  spiritual  refreshment : 
"  Whether  therefore  ye  eat,  or  drink,  or 
whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God"  (i  Cor.  10:   31). 

Christian  communion  on  the  subject  of 
the  Saviour  tends  to  elicit  some  precious 
truths  respecting  his  nature,  his  work,  and 
the  provision  he  hath  made  for  the  wayfaring 
pilgrims  of  Zion.  This  conversation,  for  in- 
stance, altogether  tends  to  magnify  the  ex- 
ceeding great  love  of  Jesus,  as  manifested  in 
all  that  he  hath  done  and  suffered  for  sinners. 
His  character  as  the  Great  Captain  of  our 
salvation  is  here  enlarged  upon — the  battles 
he  hath  fought,  and  the  conquests  he  hath 
won  in  the  interests  of  fallen  and  sinful  man  ; 
and  how  he  hath  slain  the  great  enemy  of 
souls.  And  in  all  these  glorious  deeds,  the 
one  great  motive  was  love— the  love  of  God, 


the  love  of  Jesus ;  that  love  of  country,  yea, 
even  of  rebellious  citizens,  which  lifts  the 
character  of  Christ  far  beyond  that  of  the 
noblest  and  most  self-denying  patriot  that 
ever  suffered  for  his  country's  cause.  In 
this  conversation  those  Divine  character- 
istics of  Jesus  are  discussed,  which  illustrate 
his  gracious  condescension  and  love :  how 
he  descended  from  his  royal  throne — this 
was  his  self-resignation  ;  how  he  conde- 
scended to  the  low  level  of  our  lot — this  was 
his  self-abasement ;  how  he  trod  the  patient 
path  of  human  suffering — this  was  his  self- 
denial,  and  how  he  climbed  the  mount  of 
Calvary — this  was  his  self-sacrifice.  And 
having  paid  the  purchase  of  redemption,  he 
would  not  have  his  death  to  be  a  profitless 
or  barren  sacrifice ;  but,  through  it,  would 
conduct  many  son*'  'p  e:lorv,  lifting  up  the 


The  Chamber  of  Peace. 


105 


CHRISTIAN  TELLS  CHARITY  AND  HER  SISTERS  ABOUT  HIS  FAMILY. 


themselves  to  rest.  The  pilgrim  they  laid  in  a  large  upper  chamber, 
whose  window  opened  toward  the  sun-rising;  the  name  of  the 
chamber  was  Peace ;  where  he  slept  till  break  of  day,  and  then  he 
awoke  and  sang — 

Where  am  I  now  ?     Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus,  for  the  men  that  pilgrims  are 
Thus  to  provide  !     That  I  should  be  forgiven, 
And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven,' 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  got  up ;  and,  after  some  more  discourse, 


beggar  from  the  dunghill,  and  making  the 
children  of  Zion  to  be  princes  in  all  lands. 

Such  was  the  communion  of  these  con- 
fiding and  trusting  souls,  conveying  large 
stores  of  strength  and  spiritual  consolation 
into  the  Pilgrim's  heart. 

"  Who  can  tell  the  joy,  the  bliss. 
Of  communion  such  a,«  this  ! 
*  These  have  been,'  let  others  sayj 
'  At  the  gates  of  heaven  to-day.' ' 


>;) 


The  Christian,  while  sojourning  at  thi< 
blissful  portion  of  his  journey  heavenward, 
discovers,  by  searching  his  own  heart,  by 
converse  with  godly  companions,  and  by 
a  frequent  inspection  of  the  Roll  whick 
Evangelist  gave  him,  that  God  is  wise  in. 
his  teachings  and  gracious  in  his  dealings, 
appearing  by  his  dispensations  to  say  to  the 
inexperienced :  "I  have  many  things  to  say 


106 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


they  tcld  him  that  he  should  not  depart  till  they  had  showed  him  the 
rarities  of  that  place.  And  first  they  had  him  into  the  Study,  where 
they  showed  him  records  of  the  greatest  antiquity;  in  which,  as  I 
remember  my  dream,  they  showed  him,  first  the  pedigree  of  the 
Lord  of  the  Hill,  that  he  was  the  Son  of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  and 
came  by  an  eternal  generation.  Here  also  were  more  fully  recorded 
the  acts  that  he  had  done,  and  the  names  of  many  hundreds  that  he 
had  taken  into  his  service,  and  how  he  had  placed  them  in  such 
habitations  that  could  neither  by  length  of  days  nor  decays  of  nature 
be  dissolved. 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that  some  of  his 
servants  had  done;  as  how  they  had  "subdued  kingdoms,  wrought 
righteousness,  obtained  promises,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions, 
quenched  the  violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of 
weakness  were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  and  turned  to 
flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens"  (Heb.  ii :   -x^T),  34). 

Then  they  read  again  in  another  part  of  the  records  of  the  house, 
where  it  was  showed  how  willing  their  Lord  was  to  receive  into  his 
favor  any,  even  any,  though  they  in  time  past  had  offered  great 
affronts  to  his  person  and  proceedings.  Here  also  were  several  other 
histories  of  many  other  famous  things,  of  all  which  Christian  had  a 
view,  as  of  things  both  ancient  and  modern,  together  with  prophecies 
and  predictions  of  things  that  have  their  certain  accomplishment,  both 
to  the  dread  and  amazement  of  enemies  and  the  comfort  and  solace 
of  pilgrims. 


unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now ; 
but  what  ye  know  not  now,  ye  shall  know 
hereafter;"  and  therefore  that  God  in  ten- 
derness imparts  wisdom  to  the  Christian 
according  to  his  ability  to  receive  it,  and 
apoints  conflicts  also  in  proportion  to  his 
strength  to  resist  them.  In  addition  to  this 
lesson  of  heavenly  wisdom,  Christian 
learns  that  by  bright  views  of  his  love, 
mercy  and  goodness,  and  by  thoughts,  de- 
sires, and  hopes,  God  fills  the  heart  of  Pil- 
grims with  joy  and  gladness,  and  enables 
them  either  to  go  on  their  way  rejoicing,  or, 
in  the  hour  of  trial,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of 
faith,  and  firmly  to  press  onward,  patiently 
to  look  forward,  piously  to  look  upward, 
and  vigorously  to  contend  for  the  trt<th 
against  all  the  unfruitful  works  of  dark- 
ness.     Christian  learns,   moreover,   from 


the  experience  of  Christian  warriors,  who, 
like  himself,  are  travelling  to  the  celestial 
abode,  that,  when  fresh  assaults  are  made 
against  them,  the  recollection  of  past  victo- 
ries and  the  consciousness  of  the  Divine 
presence  will  assuredly  animate  them  for  the 
conflict,  and  by  the  grace  of  God  the  victory 
will  be  theirs,  and  none  shall  be  able  to  keep 
them  from  the  path  that  leads  to  the  Heav- 
enly City. 

The  day  of  spiritual  communion  is  closed 
by  the  retirement  of  Christian  to  his  rest 
and  calm  repose,  within  the  safe  enclosure 
of  the  chamber  Peace.  Here  is  perfect 
peace,  in  the  household  of  faith — not  in  the 
midst  of  difficulty,  as  when  he  slept  in  the 
pleasant  arbor,  but  in  the  midst  of  Christian 
fellowship,  and  under  the  roof  where  heav- 
enly virtues  dwell.     Here  was  the  Pilgrim 


Christiaji  sees  the  Delectable  Mountains. 


107 


The  next  day  they  took  him  and  had  him  into  the  armory,  where 
they  showed  him  all  manner  of  furniture  which  their  Lord  had  pro- 
vided for  pilgrims,  as  sword,  shield,  helmet,  breast-plate,  all-prayer, 
and  shoes  that  would  not  wear  out.  And  there  was  here  enoueh  of 
this  to  harness  out  as  many  men,  for  the  service  of  their  Lord,  as 
there  be  stars  in  the  heaven  for  multitude. 

They  also  showed  him  some  of  the  engines  with  which  some  of 
his  servants  had  done  wonderful  things.  They  showed  him  Moses' 
rod  ;  the  hammer  and  nail  with  which  Jael  slew  Sisera  ;  the  pitchers, 
trumpets,  and  lamps  too,  with  which  Gideon  put  to  flight  the  armies 
of  Midian.  Then  they  showed  him  the  ox's  goad  wherewith  Sham- 
gar  slew  six  hundred  men.  They  showed  him  also  the  jaw-bone 
with  which  Samson  did  such  mighty  feats.  They  showed  him,  more- 
over, the  sling  and  stone  with  which  David  slew  Goliath  of  Gath  ;  and 
the  sword  also  with  which  their  Lord  will  "kill  the  man  of  sin,"  in 
the  day  that  he  shall  rise  up  to  the  prey.  They  showed  him  besides 
many  excellent  things,  with  which  Christian  was  much  delighted. 
This  done,  they  went  to  their  rest  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  on  the  morrow  he  got  up  to  go 
forward,  but  they  desired  him  to  stay  till  the  next  day  also  ;  and  then, 
said  they,  we  will,  if  the  day  be  clear,  show  you  the  Delectable 
Mountains,  which,  they  said,  would  yet  further  add  to  his  comfort, 
because  they  were  nearer  the  desired  haven  than  the  place  where  at 
present  he  was.  So  he  consented  and  stayed.  When  the  morning 
was  up,   they  had  him  to  the  top  of  the   house,  and  bid  him  look 


safe ;  his  person  and  his  property,  his  gar- 
ments and  his  credentials,  all  are  safe ;  and 
that  God,  who  has  been  about  his  path,  is 
now  about  his  bed.  This  period  of  rest  is 
that  phase  of  Christian  experience  when  the 
Christian  man  is  withdrawn  from  beating 
storms  and  roaring  lions  and  other  un- 
friendly influences  of  the  outer  world,  and 
lays  him  down  in  peace,  and  awakes  re- 
freshed, to  face  the  duties  and  the  dangers 
of  the  world  outside. 

The  Study. — We  must  now  follow  the  Pil- 
grim through  the  galleries  and  chambers  of 
the  Palace,  for  in  Christian  communion 
there  are  many  things  to  be  seen  and  learned 
and  known,  both  in  doctrine  and  example, 
in  duty  for  the  present,  in  preparation  for 
the  future,  and  in  prospect  of  the  final 
issue.    Accordingly,  the  fair  sisters  first  con- 


duct the  Pilgrim  to  the  "  Study."  Here  are 
contained  the  ancient  records  of  the  Lord  of 
the  Hill ;  and  here  his  generation,  his  deeds, 
his  followers,  all  are  duly  registered.  Here 
also  are  the  narratives  of  the  bold,  brave 
heroes  of  his  army,  the  mighty  warriors  of 
the  King,  who  have  left  their  names  embla- 
zoned on  the  Book  of  Life,  and  their  deeds 
engraven  as  with  an  iron  pen  upon  the  rock 
forever.  This  is  the  place  for  the  "  students" 
of  Divine  knowledge. 

The  armory. — This  was  the  basis  of  an- 
other day's  instruction.  Here  was  the  re- 
ceptacle containing  the  weapons  of  the 
spiritual  warfare.  All  the  parts  of  the  Chris- 
tian panoply — "  the  whole  armor  of  God" 
— are  supplied  from  this  storehouse.  And 
there  is  no  stint  or  sparing  of  the  supply  ; 
yea,  though  the  host  should  be  as  the  stars 


108 


The  Pilgri7ns  Progress. 


south  ;  so  he  did,  and  behold,  at  a  great  distance  he  saw  a  most 
pleasant,  mountainous  country,  beautified  with  woods,  vineyards, 
fruits  of  all  sorts,  flowers  also,  with  springs  and  fountains,  very 
delectable-  to  behold  (Isa.  2,2i  •  ^6,  17).  Then  he  asked  the  name  of 
the  country.  They  said  it  was  Immanuel's  Land  ;  and  it  is  as  com- 
mon, said  they,  as  this  hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And  when 
thou  comest  there  from  thence,  said  they,  thou  ma\est  see  to  the 
gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  as  the  shepherds  that  live  there  will  make 
appear. 

Now  he  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward,  and  they  were 
willing  he  should.  But  first,  said  they,  let  us  go  again  into  the 
armory.  So  they  did  ;  and  when  he  came  there,  they  harnessed  him 
from  head  to  foot  with  what  was  of  proof,  lest  perhaps  he  shoulc 
meet  with  assaults  in  the  way.  He  being  therefore  thus  accoutred^ 
walked  out  with  his  friends  to  the  gate,  and  there  he  asked  the 
Porter  if  he  saw  any  pilgrims  pass  by  ?  Then  the  Porter  answered 
Yes. 

Chr.    Pray  did  you  know  him  ? 

PoR.    I  asked  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was  Faithful. 

Oh,  said  Christian,  I  know  him  ;  he  is  my  townsman,  my  neai 
neighbor ;  he  comes  from  the  town  where  I  was  born.  How  far  do 
you  think  he  may  be  before? 


of  heaven  for  multitude,  there  is  enough  for 
each,  and  enough  for  all,  and  yet  to  spare. 
Out  of  these  supplies  was  Christian  him- 
self armed  and  equipped  ere  he  departed 
from  the  Palace  on  his  homeward  way. 

This  armory,  moreover,  served  as  a  mu- 
seum, or  treasury  of  those  ancient  imple- 
ments of  the  good  fight  of  faith,  by  which 
men  in  olden  time  did  fight  and  win  their 
spiritual  battles.  These  relics — not  for  wor- 
ship but  for  remembrance — were  evidences 
of  the  might  of  other  days,  when  the  strong 
champions  of  the  Lord  went  in  and  out 
among  their  people,  and  were  jealous  for 
Jehovah's  sovereignty,  and  avenged  his 
righteous  cause  against  all  opposers.  This 
was  just  such  a  treasury  of  ancient  lore  and 
deeds  of  faith  as  Paul  supplies  in  the  eleventh 
chapter  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews — that 
memorable  record  of  men  that  lived  and 
died  in  faith. 

ItnmanucV s  Land. — Who  sees  with  the 
eye  of  faith  sees  with  a  far-seeing  eye.    Not 


only  within  the  chambers  of  the  Palace,  but 
also  from  the  outer  heights  are  prospects 
and  perspectives  of  far-off  scenes,  and  stages 
yet  to  be  attained.  Hence  may  be  seen 
some  of  the  great  landmarks  of  the  way: 
from  the  Palace  Beautiful  the  Delectable 
Mountains  may  be  seen  in  the  distance 
and  by-and-by,  from  those  Delectable  Mouti- 
tains  will  the  Pilgrim  see  the  gates  of  the 
Celestial  City.  Thus  it  is  that  Faith's  wide 
prospect  perpetually  expands,  and  from  suc- 
cessive standpoints  more  distant  prospects 
dawn  upon  the  sight.     Faith 

"  I-eads  from  goal  to  g-oal, 
And  opens  still,  and  (.pens  on  tne  soul." 

To  men  of  faith  is  the  promise  made — 
"  They  shall  behold  the  land  that  is  very  far 
off"  (Isa.  33:  17).  That  land  is  pleasant; 
even  in  the  distant  prospect  presenting  its 
vineyards  and  its  woodlands,  its  fountains 
and  rivers  of  waters.  At  this  prospect  the 
Pilgrim's  zeal  is  quickened,  and  he  desires 
to  depart,  that  he  may  the  sooner  gain  that 


CHRISTIAN  ARMED  BY  PRUDENCE,  DISCRETION,  PIETY  AND  CHARITY. 

109 


no 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


PoR.    He  has  got  by  this  time  below  the  hill. 

Well,  said  Christian,  good  Porter,  the  Lord  be  with  thee,  and 
add  to  all  thy  blessings  much  increase,  for  the  kindness  that  thou 
hast  showed  to  me. 

Then  he  began  to  go  forward ;  but  Discretion,  Piety,  Charity, 
and  Prudence  would  accompany  him  down  to  the  foot  of  the  hill. 
So  they  went  on  together,  reiterating  their  former  discourses,  till 
they  came  to  go  down  the  hill.  Then,  said  Christian,  As  it  was 
difficult  coming  up,  so,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  it  is  dangerous  going 
down.  Yes,  said  Prudence,  so  it  is  ;  for  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  a 
man  to  go  down  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  as  thou  art  now, 
and  to  catch  no  slip  by  the  way ;  therefore,  said  they,  we  are  come 
out  to  accompany  thee  down  the  hill.  So  he  began  to  go  down,  but 
very  warily,  yet  he  caught  a  slip  or  two. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  good  companions,  when 
Christian  was  gone  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  gave  him  a  loaf 
of  bread,  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  a  cluster  of  raisins  ;  and  then  he  went 
on  his  way. 


goodly  out-post  of  the  City.  But  the  journey 
Has  through  battle-fields  ;  and  through  many 
a  hard-fought  fight  is  the  issue  to  be  attained. 
They  harnessed  him. — Till  now,  the  Robe 
received  at  the  Cross  is  the  raiment  of  the 
Pilgrim,  and  this  continues  to  be  his  cloth- 
ing. But  besides  this  dress,  he  is  accoutred 
with  a  suit  of  armor  from  the  armory  of  the 
Palace.  To  what  purpose  this  precaution 
was  taken  will  ere  long  appear.  He  is  now 
invested  with  armor  becoming  a  Pilgrim- 
soldier  of  the  Cross — the  girdle  of  truth 
about  his  loins,  the  breastplate  of  righteous- 
ness, his  feet  shod  with  the  preparation  of 
the  gospel  of  peace ;  besides  all  these,  there 
are  given  to  him  the  shield  of  faith,  the  hel- 
met of  salvation,  and  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit ;  and  there  is  added  the  weapon  of 
All-prayer  to  these  (Eph.  6:  14-18).  Thus 
equipped,  the  Pilgrim  is  about  to  be  com- 
mitted to  the  onward  stages  of  his  journey. 
To  some  purpose,  indeed,  was  this  sojou-n 
in  the  Palace  Beautiful.  In  very  weakness 
\  he  entered  its  portals ;  but  now  he  is  re- 
freshed, comforted,  instructed,  edified,  en- 
lightened, armed,  and  strengthened.  Hav- 
ing now  tasted  the  blessings  of  Christian 
communion,  he  asks  the  porter  at  the  gate 
whether  any  fellow-pilgrims  have  passed  by  ; 


and  he  is  informed  that  one  Faithful  has 
just  passed  on  before  him.  This  man  has 
not  enjoyed  the  Christian  intercourse  of  the 
Palace,  but  shall  by-and-by  reap  the  benefits 
of  Christian's  company,  as  Christian,  in 
his  turn,  shall  also  enjoy  the  fellowship  of 
Faithful.  "  Iron  sharpeneth  iron ;  so  a 
man  sharpeneth  the  countenance  of  his 
friend"  (Prov.  27  :    17). 

Then  he  began  to  go  forward. — Not  alone 
does  he  depart ;  for  the  fair  sisters  bear  him 
company  to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  "  The 
things  that  accompany  salvation  "  form  the 
escort  of  the  Christian  in  all  difficult  places. 
Accordingly,  as  the  Pilgrim  has  been  enabled 
to  cUmb  the  hill  Difficulty  at  the  one  side, 
so  he  is  assisted  in  his  descent  into  the  low- 
lying  valley  at  the  other  side — the  Valley  of 
Humihation.  Oh,  how  hard  it  is  to  walk 
safely  down  that  steep  declivity  !  Flesh  and 
blood  resist  the  effort ;  but,  assisted  and  ac- 
companied by  Divine  virtues  and  graces, 
this  may  be  accompHshed,  at  least  with 
safety. 

"  Thus  to  the  vale  they  all  descend, 
Whither  the  Pilgrim  s  footsteps  tend— 
A  lonely  dell. 

They  give  him  of  their  goodly  store. 
As  emolems  of  the  love  they  bore ; 
And  then— Farewell!" 


CHAPTER  IX. 
Apollyon. 


Forth  from  the  armory,  and  in  full  equipment.  Pilgrim  is  conducted  by  the  fair  sister- 
hood of  the  Palace  down  the  hill  to  the  low-lying  valley  of  Humiliation.  Diverse  are  the 
experiences  of  pilgrims,  even  in  the  self-same  stage  of  the  pilgrimage.  To  Christian  the 
descent  was  "  dangerous  ;  "  and  the  Valley  (when  he  got  there)  became  the  battle-field  of 
one  ot  the  fiercest  encounters  that  fell  to  his  lot  in  the  course  of  his  journey.  Yet  this 
Valley  is  not  thus  perilous  to  all  pilgrims.  In  the  Second  Part  of  the  Progress  it  is  described 
as  '  a  fruitful  place" — "the  best  and  most  fruitful  piece  of  ground  in  all  these  parts."  It 
consists  of  meadow-land  and  green  valleys,  "beautiful  with  lilies;"  filled  with  sheep,  and 
resounding  with  the  pastoral  songs  of  the  shepherds  ;  and  its  chiefest  glory  is,  that  it  was 
the  chosen  dwelling-place  of  Jesus,  the  Lord  of  all. 

UT  now,  in  this  Valley  of  Humiliation,  poor  Christian  was 
hard  put  to  it ;  for  he  had  gone  but  a  little  way  before  he 
espied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field  to  meet  him  ;  his 
name  is  Apollyon  (Rev.  9:  11).  Then  did  Christian 
begin  to  be  afraid,  and  to  cast  in  his  mind  whether  to  go 
back  or  to  stand  his  ground.  But  he  considered  again  that  he  had 
no  armor  for  his  back,  and  therefore  thought  that  to  turn  the  back  to 
him  might  give  him  greater  advantage  with  ease  to  pierce  him  with 
his  darts  ;  therefore  he  resolved  to  venture,  and  stand  his  ground  ; 
for,  thought  he,  had  I  no  more  in  mine  eye  than  the  saving  of  my  life, 
it  would  be  the  best  way  to  stand. 


Valley  of  Humiliation. — From  the  height 
of  Christian  privilege  a  descending  path  and 
a  darkening  prospect  now  lie  before  the  Pil- 
grim. He  that  had  gone  up  the  hill,  must 
now  go  doivii  at  the  other  side — down  to  the 
valley,  the  \'alley  of  Humility;  lower  down 
— to  the  Valley  of  Humiliation  ;  lower  still  — 
to  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Very 
timely,  and  in  anticipation  of  his  direst 
need,  lias  been  the  provision  and  refresh- 
ment of  the  Palace  Beautiful,  and  the  con- 
versation of  its  inhabitants.  Now,  through 
scenes  of  danger  and  of  darkness,  Chris- 
tian is  appointed  to  pursue  his  onward  jour- 
ney. 


The  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  a  deep,  low- 
lying  vale.  The  descent  to  it  is  both  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous ;  but  to  dwell  there  is 
profitable  to  the  spirit  of  pilgrims.  It  tends 
to  the  formation  of,  at  least,  one  part  of  the 
Christ-like  character,  for  Jesus  had  his 
dwelling  there;  and  he  who  would  be  like 
to  Christ,  must  be  familiar  with  this  humble 
and  lowly  portion  of  the  Pilgrim's  lot. 

Afoulfioid — Apollyon  — •'  And  they  had 
a  king  over  them,  which  is  the  angel  of  the 
bottomless  pit.  whose  name  in  the  Plebrew 
tongue  is  Abaddon,  but  in  the  Greek  tongue 
hath  his  name  Apollyon"  (Rev.  9:  11). 
Here,  then,  the  Allegory  means  to  depict  a 


(111) 


112 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


So  he  went  on,  and  Apollyon  met  him.  Now  \\\<c  monster  was 
hideous  to  behold  :  he  was  clothed  with  scales  like  a  fish  (and  they 
are  his  pride)  ;  he  had  wings  like  a  dragon,  feet  like  a  bear,  and  out 
of  his  belly  came  fire  and  smoke,  and  his  mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of 
a  lion.  When  he  was  come  up  to  Christian,  he  beheld  him  with  a 
disdainful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  question  with  him. 

Apol.    Whence  came  you  ?  and  whither  are  you  bound  ? 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  which  is  the  place 
of  all  evil,  and  am  going  to  the  City  of  Zion. 

Apol.  By  this  I  perceive  thou  art  one  of  my  subjects  ;  for  all  that 
country  is  mine,  and  I  am  the  prince  and  god  of  it  (2  Cor.  4:  4). 
How  is  it  then  that  thou  hast  run  away  from  thy  king?  Were  it  not 
that  I  hope  thou  mayest  do  me  more  service,  I  would  strike  thee  now 
at  one  blow  to  the  ground. 

Chr.  I  was  born  indeed  in  your  dominions,  but  your  service  was 
hard,  and  your  wages  such  as  a  man  could  not  live  on  ;  "for  the  wages 
of  sin  is  death  "  (Rom.  6  :  23);  therefore,  when  I  was  come  to  years,  I 
did,  as  other  considerate  persons  do,  look  out  if  perhaps  I  might 
mend  myself. 

Apol.    There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose  his  subjects, 


conflict  with  the  powers  of  hell,  with  Satan 
himself.  It  is  one  of  those  fierce  assaults  of 
the  devil  with  which  he  seeks  to  recover  his 
lost  prey,  and  if  not  this,  to  destroy  them. 
The  name  Apollyon  means  "  The  de- 
stroyer." 

The  description  of  this  monster  is  con- 
veyed in  a  sentence  that  gathers  into  itself 
the  accumulation  of  all  those  characteris- 
tics of  Satan  that  are  most  hideous  and 
horrible,  deadly  and  dangerous.  The  scaly 
leprosy  of  the  old  serpent  covers  Apoll- 
yon as  with  a  coat  of  mail.  He  had 
"  wings  hke  a  dragon,"  to  indicate  the  rapid- 
ity of  his  flight  and  the  ravages  of  his 
march;  "feet  like  a  bear,"  for  softness  of 
tread,  and  strength  and  power  to  injure  ; 
"  fire  and  smoke  "  came  forth  from  his  nos- 
trils, representing  the  inner  fire  that  burns 
within  the  breast  of  the  fallen  angel,  and 
his  very  breath  tells  of  the  fiery  realm  he 
rules,  and  the  fiery  wrath  he  wields  ;  "  his 
mouth  as  the  mouth  of  a  lion,"  the  rampant, 
raging,  roaring  hon,  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour. 


No  armor  for  Jiis  back. — In  the  enumera- 
tion of  the  Christian  armor  in  the  armory 
(Eph.  6:  14-8),  there  is  no  mention  of  any 
protection  for  the  back  of  the  Christian  war- 
rior. The  ancient  Romans,  and,  indeed,  all 
warlike  nations,  made  no  provision  for  the 
backs  of  their  soldiers ;  for  they  said  that  the 
soldier  who  turned  his  back  to  the  foe  de- 
served no  armor  to  protect  him.  The 
duty  of  a  soldier  is  always  to  present  a  full 
front  to  the  enemy ;  and  therefore  is  he  pro- 
vided with  breastplate  and  helmet,  with 
sword  and  shield — armor  offensive  and  de- 
fensive ;  but  "  no  armor  for  his  back." 
The  duty  of  the  Christian  soldier  is  to  stand 
and  to  withstand.  This  is  the  way  to  "re- 
sist the  devil."  It  is  in  the  spiritual  as  in 
the  carnal  conflict — retreat  is  danger  ;  and 
to  flee  from  the  fight  is  the  surest  way  to  an 
ignominious  defeat.  This  thought  aids  the 
Pilgrim,  now  standing  in  the  path,  to  receive 
the  first  shock  of  the  foul  fiend  Apollyon. 

Bei^an  to  question  with  him. — Not  first  with 
a  battle-shock,  but  with  tempting  questions. 
Thus  did  Satan  with  our  first  parents.     By 


Christian  and  Apollyon. 


113 


CHRISTIAN'S  COMBAT  WITH  APOLLYON. 

neither  will  I  as  yet  lose  thee  ;  but  since  thou  complainest  of  thy  ser- 
vice and  wages,  be  content  to  go  back  ;  what  our  country  will  afford, 
I  do  here  promise  to  give  thee. 

Chr.  But  I  have  let  myself  to  another,  even  to  the  King  of 
princes ;  and  how  can  I  with  fairness  go  back  with  thee  ? 

Apol.  Thou  hast  done  in  this  according  to  the  proverb,  changed 
a  bad  for  a  ivorse;  but  it  is  ordinary  for  those  that  have  professed 
themselves  his  servants,  after  a  while  to  give  him  the  slip,  and  return 
again  to  me.     Do  thou  so  too,  and  all  shall  be  well. 

Chr.  I  have  given  him  my  faith,  and  sworn  my  allegiance  to 
him  ;  how  then  can  I  go  back  from  this  and  not  be  hanged  as  a  traitor  ? 

Apol.    Thou  didst  the  same  to  me,  and  yet  I  am  willing  to  paas 

by  all.  if  now  thou  wilt  yet  turn  again  and  go  back, 

Chr.    What  I  promised  thee  was  in  my  nonage  ;  and,  besides,  I 
8 


n4 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


count  that  the  Prince  under  whose  banner  now  I  stand  is  able  to  ab- 
solve me  ;  yea,  and  to  pardon  also  what  I  did  as  to  my  compliance 
with  thee;  and,  besides,  O  thou  destroying  Apollyon,  to  speak  truth, 
I  like  his  service,  his  wages,  his  servants,  his  government,  his  com- 
pany, and  country,  better  than  thine;  and  therefore  leave  off  to  per- 
suade me  further:  I  am  his  servant,  and  I  will  follow  him. 

Apol.  Consider  again,  when  thou  art  in  cool  blood,  what  thou 
art  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way  that  thou  goest.  Thou  knowest  that, 
for  the  most  part,  his  servants  come  to  an  ill  end,  because  they  are 
transgressors  against  me  and  my  ways.  How  many  of  them  have 
been  put  to  shameful  deaths  ?  And  besides,  thou  countesthis  service 
better  than  mine,  whereas  he  never  came  yet  from  the  place  where 
he  is,  to  deliver  any  that  served  me  out  of  my  hands  ;  but,  as  for  me, 
how  many  times,  as  all  the  world  very  well  knows,  have  I  delivered, 
either  by  power  or  fraud,  those  that  have  faithfully  served  me,  from 
him  and  his,  though  taken  by  them;  and  so  I  will  deliver  thee. 

Chr.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them  is  on  purpose  to 
try  their  love,  whether  they  will  cleave  to  him  to  the  end ;  and  as  for 
the  ill  end  thou  sayest  they  come  to,  that  is  most  glorious  in  their 
account;  for,  present  deliverance,  they  do  not  much  expect  it ;  for 
they  stay  for  their  glory,  and  then  they  shall  have  it,  when  their  Prince 
comes  in  his  and  the  glory  of  the  angels. 

Apol.  Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy  service  to  him ; 
and  how  dost  thou  think  to  receive  wages  of  him? 

Chr.  Wherein,  O  Apollyon,  have  I  been  unfaithful  to  him  ? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  faint  at  first  settino- out,  when  thou  wast  almost 
choked  in  the  gulf  of  Despond  ;  thou  didst  attempt  wrong  ways  to  be 


cunning  conversation  he  gained  their  ear, 
and  thence  probed  deeper  to  the  heart ;  and 
at  last  he  won  them  by  fair  speeches  and 
"well-placed  words  of  glozing  courtesy." 
Thus  did  he  also  with  our  Lord  himself.  He 
began  not  with  the  striving  unto  blood,  as 
in  the  agony,  but  with  cunning  questions 
and  with  insidious  arguments  did  he  tempt 
the  Lord.  And  even  so  he  began  with  us. 
He  fo- bears  to  fight,  if  he  can  gain  the  con- 
quest of  a  soul  on  lighter  terms. 

The  commencement  of  Apollyon's  on- 
slaught upon  Christian  is  made  in  the 
form  of  a  question,  "  Whence  came  you  ?" 
and  by  the  answer  to  this  inquiry  he  is  em- 
boldened to  lay  a  legal  claim  to  the  alle- 


giance of  the  Pilgrim.  The  City  of  Destruc- 
tion is  Satan's  city  and  he  is  its  Prince  ;  and 
accordingly  he  claims  the  Pilgrim  as  one  of 
his  subjects. 

Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful. — Here 
is  Satan  set  forth  in  his  true  colors — as  the 
"  Accuser  of  the  brethren."  He  tempts  us 
to  sin,  that  he  may  himself  accuse  us.  But 
the  Pilgrim  answers  him  again,  quoting  the 
power  and  love  of  God  in  Christ.  And  as 
for  the  root  of  sin,  that  he  ascribes  to  Satan, 
seeing  it  was  implanted  during  the  time  ol 
the  bond-service 

At  this  complete  overthrow  of  his  succes- 
sive temptations,  Apollyon  is  wrathful ; 
Christian  is  resolute 


Combat  between  Christian  and  Apollyon. 


115 


rid  of  thy  burden,  whereas  thou  shouldst  have  stayed  till  thy  Prince 
had  taken  it  off;  thou  didst  sinfully  sleep,  and  lose  thy  choice  thing  ; 
thou  wast  also  almost  persuaded  to  go  back  at  the  sight  of  the  lions; 
and  when  thou  talkest  of  thy  journey,  and  of  what  thou  hast  heard 
and  seen,  thou  art  inwardly  desirous  of  vainglory  in  all  that  thou 
sayest  or  doest. 

Chr.  All  this  is  true,  and  much  more  which  thou  hast  left  out; 
but  the  Prince  whom  I  serve  and  honor,  is  merciful  and  ready  to  for- 
give. But,  besides,  these  infirmities  possessed  me  in  thy  country; 
for  there  I  sucked  them  in,  and  I  have  groaned  under  them,  being 
sorry  for  them,  and  have  obtained  pardon  of  my  Prince. 

Then  Apollyon  broke  out  into  a  grievous  rage,  saying,  I  am  an 
enemy  to  this  Prince  ;  I  hate  his  person,  his  laws,  and  people.  I  am 
come  out  on  purpose  to  withstand  thee. 

Chr.  Apollyon,  beware  what  you  do ;  for  I  am  in  the  King's 
highway,  the  way  of  holiness  ;  therefore  take  heed  to  yourself. 

Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
way,  and  said,  I  am  void  of  fear  in  this  matter  ;  prepare  thyself  to 
die  ;  for  I  swear  by  my  infernal  den  that  thou  shalt  go  no  further ; 
here  will  I  spill  thy  soul. 

And  with  that  he  threw  a  flaming  dart  at  his  breast ;  but  Chris- 
tian had  a  shield  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  caught  it,  and  so  pre- 
vented the  danger  of  that. 

Then  did  Christian  draw  ;  for  he  saw  it  was  time  to  bestir  him  ; 
and  Apollyon  as  fast  made  at  him,  throwing  darts  as  thick  as  hail ;  by 
the  which,  notwithstanding  all  that  Christian  could  do  to  avoid  it, 
Apollyon  wounded  him  in  his  head,  his  hand,  and  foot.  This  made 
Christian  give  a  little  back ;  Apollyon,  therefore,  followed  his  work 


The  description  of  this  battle  of  the  war- 
rior with  the  powers  of  darkness  has  ever 
been  considered  as  a  masterpiece  of  a  master- 
mind. For  vigor  and  spirit  of  detail,  reveal- 
ing the  alternating  fortunes  of  the  fight,  it 
stands  as  one  of  the  best  delineations  of  the 
real  and  earnest  conflict  the  Christian  soldier 
has  to  wage  with  Satan. 

"  They  said  the  war  was  brief  and  easy  ; 
A  word,  a  look,  would  crush  the  throng. 
To  some  it  may  have  been  a  moment's  conflict ; 
To  me  it  has  been  sore  and  long." 

With  real  an.xiety  we  view  the  quick  dis- 
patch of  fiery  darts  from  the  quiver  of  Apol- 
lyon, and  the  disastrous  consequences — the 


many  wounds  of  Christian  in  head,  and 
hand,  and  foot.  We  cannot  be  unconcerned 
for  the  result,  when  in  the  strife  the  Pilgrim 
falls,  and  in  the  fall  he  drops  his  sword.  This 
suspense  increases  when  we  behold  Apol- 
lyon taking  advantage  of  his  opportunity, 
having  the  upper  hand  of  his  antagonist, 
while  Christian  despairs  even  of  his  life. 
All  now  seems  lost,  the  battle  ended,  and 
our  Pilgrim  well-nigh  carried  off  the  field, 
the  victim  of  the  Destroyer.  But  at  this 
point  occurs  the  climax  of  the  story,  and  its 
great  spiritual  lesson,  too.  The  Pilgrim, 
being  weak,  is  made  to  feel  his  weakness. 
Accordingly,  it  is  while  he  is  thus  prostrate, 


£16 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


amain,  and  Christian  again  took  courage,  and  resisted  as  manfully  as 
he  could.  This  sore  combat  lasted  for  about  half  a  day,  even  till 
Christian  was  almost  quite  spent;  for  you  must  know  that  Christian, 
by  reason  of  his  wounds,  must  needs  grow  weaker  and  weaker. 

Then  Apollyon,  espying  his  opportunity,  began  to  gather  up 
close  to  Christian,  and,  wrestling  with  him,  gave  him  a  dreadful  fall ; 
and  with  that  Christian's  sword  flew  out  of  his  hand.  Then  said 
Apollyon,  I  am  sure  of  thee  now ;  and  with  that  he  almost  pressed 
him  to  death;  so  that  Christian  began  to  despair  of  life.  But,  as 
God  would  have  it,  while  Apollyon  was  fetching  his  last  blow,  thereby 
to  make  a  full  end  of  this  good  man.  Christian  nimbly  reached  out 
\iis  hand  for  his  sword,  and  caught  it,  saying,  "  Rejoice  not  against 
me,  O  mine  enemy!  when  I  fall,  I  shall  arise"  (Micah  7:8);  and 
'.vith  that  gave  him  a  deadly  thrust,  which  made  him  give  back  as 
one  that  had  received  his  mortal  wound.  Christian  perceiving  that, 
made  at  him  again,  saying,  "Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are  more 
than  conquerors  through  him  that  loved  us"  (Rom.  8  :  37-39);  and 
with  that  Apollyon  spread  forth  his  dragon-wings  and  sped  him 
away,  that  Christian  saw  him  no  more  (James  4:7). 

In  this  combat  no  man  can  imagine,  unless  he  had  seen  and 
heard,  as  I  did,  what  yelling  and  hideous  roaring  Apollyon  made  all 
the  time  of  the  fight;  he  "spake  like  a  dragon  ;"  and,  on  the  other 
side,  what  sighs  and  groans  burst  from  Christian's  heart.  I  never 
saw  him  all  the  while  give  so  much  as  one  pleasant  look,  till  he  per- 
ceived he  had  wounded  Apollyon  with  his  two-edged  sword  ;  then 
indeed  he  did  smile  and  look  upward  !  but  it  was  the  dreadfullest 
sight  that  ever  I  saw. 

So  when  the  battle  was  over.  Christian  said,  I  will  here  give 
thanks  to  him  that  hath  delivered  me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion, 
to  him  that  did  help  me  against  Apollyon.     And  so  he  did,  saying, 

Great  Beelzebub,  the  captain  of  this  fiend, 
Design'd  my  ruin  ;  therefore  to  this  end 
He  sent  him  harness'd  out ;  and  he  with  rage, 
That  hellish  was,  did  fiercely  me  engage. 
But  blessed  Michael  helped  me,  and  I 
By  dint  of  sword  did  quickly  make  him  fly ; 
Therefore  to  him  let  me  give  lasting  praise, 
And  thank  and  bless  his  holy  name  always. 


and  his  hand  cleaveth  no  longer  to  his 
sword,  that  the  great  fact  of  his  weakness  is 
brought  home  to  him  in  all  its  dread  reality  ; 
and  the  victim  looks  to  the  Invincible  for 


strength,  nor  looks  in  vain ;  for  Divinf 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  his  weakness, 
and  he  grasps  his  sword  again,  and  instantly 
the  battle  changes — Apollyon  is  wounded 


Combat  betwee7i   Christia^i  and  Apollyoft. 


117 


Then  there  came  to  him  a  hand  with  some  of  the  leaves  of  the 
^'tree  of  Hfe  "  (Rev.  22  :  2);  the  which  Christian  took,  and  appHed  10 
the  wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  battle,  and  was  healed 
immediately.  He  also  sat  down  in  that  place  to  eat  bread,  and  to 
drink  of  that  bottle  that  was  given  him  a  little  before  ;  so  being 
refreshed  he  addressed  himself  to  his  journey  with  his  sword  drawn 
'in  his  hand;  for  he  said,  I  know  not  but  some  other  enemy  may  be 
at  hand.  But  he  met  with  no  other  affront  from  Apollyon  quite 
through  this  valley. 


with  a  deadly  thrust,  and  spreads  his  dragon- 
wings,  and  betakes  himself  to  his  dark 
prison-house.  Meanwhile,  Christian,  who 
is  "  more  than  conqueror,"  is  left  in  posses- 
sion of  the  field.     And  now,  weary  and  faint 


after  so  great  a  struggle,  he    presents  his 
thanksgiving  to  the  God  of  battles      Taught 
by    hard    experience,    he   sheathes    not  his 
sword,  but  he  addresses  himself  to   his  on 
ward  journey,  prepared  for  every  assault. 


CHAPTER  X. 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 


■•O  Father-Eye,  that  hath  so  truly  watched ; 

O  Father-Hand,  that  hath  so  gently  led  ; 
O  Father-Heart,  that  by  my  prayer  is  touched — 

That  loved  me  first,  when  I  was  cold  and  dead- 


"  Still  do  thou  lead  me  on,  with  faithful  care,  j 

The  narrow  path  to  heaven,  where  I  would  go  ; 

And  train  me  for  the  life  that  waits  me  there, 
AUke  through  love  and  loss,  through  weal  and  woe ! " 


These  words  of  the  German  hymn  may  be  adopted  as  a  fitting  embodiment  of  our 
Pilgrim's  feelings,  when,  descending  to  a  lower  level  than  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  he 
enters  on  the  deeper  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  begins  to  realize  the  darker  ex- 
periences of  that  dreadful  pass,  where  he  was  "  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his  fight  with 
Apollyon." 

This  Valley  is  a  continuation  of  the  preceding  scene.  Scarcely  has  the  good  fight 
been  fought,  when  a  horror  of  great  darkness  overcasts  the  vale,  and  gloomy  terrors  throng 
upon  the  Pilgrim's  soul,  and  he  walks  that  live-long  night  through  a  darkness  that  might 
be  felt,  and  through  spiritual  antagonisms  that  intensified  both  the  darkness  and  the  danger. 
The  whole  scene — from  the  first  assault  of  Apollyon  to  the  sun-rising  in  the  valley — is  a 
continued  series  of  perils  encountered,  dangers  avoided,  and  difficulties  overcome,  that 
seemed  insuperable. 

OW  at  the  end  of  this  valley  was  another,  called  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  Christian  must 
needs  go  through  it,  because  the  way  to  the  Celestial 
City  lay  through  the  midst  of  it.  Now  this  valley  is 
a  very  solitary  place.  The  prophet  Jeremiah  thus 
describes  it:  "A  wilderness;  a  land  of  deserts  and  of  pits;  a  land  of 
drought,  and  of  the  shadow  of  death ;  a  land  that  no  man  (but  a 
Christian)  passed  through,  and  where  no  man  dwelt  "  (Jer.  2  :  6). 
Now  here  Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his  fight  with 
Apollyon ;  as  by  the  sequel  you  shall  see. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that,  when  Christian  was  got  to  the 
borders  of  the  shadow  of  Death,  there  met  him  two  men,  children 


The  Shadow  of  Death, — This  must  be 
understood  as  a  season  of  rising  doubts,  and 
returning  convictions,  and  dark  surmisings 
as  to  one's  spiritual  stare.  It  may  be  called 
"  Satan's  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness." 
Apc«.lyon,   foiled    in    his   direct    personal 


assault  upon  the  Pilgrim,  now  summons  vo 
his  aid  his  legion  of  evil  spirits. 

/  saw  in  fuy  dream. — The  Dreamer  now 
sees  the  Pilgrim  already  entered  on  the  dark 
Valley.  He  treads  delicately  a  very  narrow 
path,  with  danger  pressing  sore  upon  him 


(118) 


The    Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 


119 


of  them  that  brought  up  an   evil  report  of  the  good  land  (Numb. 
13),  making  haste  to  go   back;  to  whom  Christian  spake  as  follows: 

Whither  are  you  going?  ' 

They  said,  Back !  back  !  and  we  would  have  you  to  do  so,  too, 
if  either  life  or  peace  is  prized  by  you. 

Why?  what's  the  matter?  said  Christian. 

Matter !   said  they,  we  were  going  that  way  as  you  are  going, , 
and  went  as  far  as  we  durst ;    and  indeed  we    were    almost   past 
coming  back ;  for  had  we  gone  a  little  further  we  had  not  been  here 
to  bring  the  news  to  thee. 

But  what  have  you  met  with  ?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Why  we  were  almost  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death  (Ps.  44:  19);  but  that  by  good  hap  we  looked  before  us, 
and  saw  the  dancver  before  we  came  to  it. 

But  what  have  you  seen?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Seen  !  why  the  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark  as  pitch ; 
we  also  saw  there  the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit ; 
we  heard  also  in  that  valley  continual  howling  and  yelling,  as  of  a 
people  under  unutterable  misery,  who  there  sat  bound  in  affliction 
and  iron  ;  and  over  that  valley  hang  the  discouraging  clouds  of 
confusion  ;  death  also  does  always  spread  his  wings  over  it.  In  a 
word,  it  is  every  whit  dreadful,  being  utterly  without  order  (Job 
3:  5;   10:  22). 

Then  said  Christian,  I  perceive  not  yet,  by  what  you  have  said, 
but  that  this  is  my  way  to  the  desired  haven. 

Men.    Be  it  thy  way  ;  we  will  not  choose  it  for  ours. 

So  they  parted  ;  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but  still  with 
sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he  should  be  assaulted. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  so  far  as  this  valley  reached,  there  was 
on  the  right  hand  a  very  deep  ditch;  that  ditch  is  it  into  which  the 
blind  have  led  the  blind  in  all  ages,  and  have  both  there  miserably 
perished  (Ps.  69:  14).  Again,  behold  on  the  leit  hand  there  was 
a  very  dangerous  quag,  into  which  if  even  a  good  man  falls  he  finds 
no  bottom  for  his  foot  to  stand  on.    Into  that  quag  King  David  once 


on  either  side.  Here  are  no  "  stepping- 
stones,"  as  in  the  Slough.  Yea,  even  a 
good  man  falling  in  here  finds  no  foot-hold. 
All  help  and  promise,  all  hope  and  rescue, 
must  here  be  found  in  Christ — in  Christ 
alone.  "He  that  is  able"  must  pluck 
them  out. 


"Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom. 

Lead  thou  me  on  ! 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home ;  ^ 

Lead  thou  ir>e  on! 
Keep  thou  my  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  way ;  cnc  stem's  eaough  for  me." 

The  ntoJtth  of  heli — He  here  speaks,  per- 
haps, of  that  season  of  bodily  and  spiritual 


120 


The  Pilginms  Progress. 


did  fall,  and  had  no  doubt  therein  been  smothered,  had  not  he  that 
is  able  plucked  him  out. 

The  pathway  was  here  also  exceeding  narrow,  and  therefore 
good  Christian  was  the  more  put  to  it ;  for  when  he  sought  in  the 
dark  to  shun  the  ditch  on  the  one  hand,  he  was  ready  to  tip  over 
into  the  mire  on  the  other ;  also,  when  he  sought  to  escape  the 
mire,  without  great  carefulness  he  would  be  ready  to  fall  into  the 
ditch.  Thus  he  went  on,  and  I  heard  him  there  sigh  bitterly;  for, 
besides  the  dangers  mentioned  above,  the  pathway  was  here  so 
dark,  that  ofttimes  when  he  lift  up  his  foot  to  set  forward,  he  knew 
not  where,  nor  upon  what,  he  should  set  it  next. 

About  the  midst  of  the  valley  I  perceived  the  mouth  of  hell  to 
be,  and  it  stood  also  hard  by  the  wayside.  Now,  thought  Christian, 
what  shall  I  do?  And  ever  and  anon  the  flame  and  smoke  would 
come  out  in  such  abundance,  with  sparks  and  hideous  noises 
(things  that  cared  not  for  Christian's  sword,  as  did  Apollyon  before), 
that  he  was  forced  to  put  up  his  sword,  and  betake  himself  to 
another  weapon,  called  All-prayer  (Eph.  6:  i8);  so  he  cried,  in  my 
hearing,  "O  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  deliver  my  soul!"  (Ps.  ii6:  4). 
Thus  he  went  on  a  great  while ;  yet  still  the  flames  would  be 
reaching  towards  him  ;  also  he  heard  doleful  voices,  and  rushings  to 
and  fro,  so  that  sometimes  he  thought  he  should  be  torn  in  pieces, 
or  trodden  down  like  the  mire  in  the  streets.  This  frightful  sight 
was  seen,  and  these  dreadful  noises  were  heard,  by  him  for  several 
miles  together ;  and  coming  to  a  place  where  he  thought  he  heard  a 


weakness  alluded  to  in  his  "  Grace  Abound- 
ing," where  he  says  :  "Again,  as  I  was  at 
another  time  very  ill  and  weak,  all  that  time 
also  the  tempter  did  beset  me  strongly,  for  I 
find  he  is  much  for  assaulting  the  soul  when 
it  begins  to  approach  towards  the  grave  ; 
then  is  his  opportunity,  laboring  to  hide  from 
me  my  former  experience  of  God's  good- 
ness ;  also  setting  before  me  the  terror  of 
death  and  the  judgment  of  God." 

Amid  these  inward  spiritual  antagonisms, 
he  found  he  must  resort  to  inward  and 
spiritual  weapons.  And  accordingly  his 
sword,  with  which  he  had  defeated  Apol- 
lyon, is  now  sheathed ;  and  the  spiritual 
'weapon  of  "All-prayer"  must  now  be  put 
in  exercise. 

But  he  abides  in  prayer,  and  prays  all 
through  the  Vale  of  Death.     And  the  great 


power  of  prayer  is  answered,  for  by  it  the 
fiends  are  held  at  bay.  Yet  this  is  the  worst 
part  of  the  pass— the  crisis  of  the  danger — 
for  now  the  mind  of  poor  Christian  is 
"confusion  worse  confounded,"  by  reason 
of  the  inward  suggestion  of  the  Evil  One, 
and  the  blasphemies  that  he  hears  uttered 
as  from  his  own  heart  and  by  his  own  voice. 
To  this  also  he  alludes  in  his  "Grace  Abound- 
ing :  "  "While  I  was  in  this  temptation,  I 
would  often  find  my  mind  suddenly  put  upon 
it  to  curse  and  swear,  or  to  speak  some 
grievous  thing  against  God,  or  Christ  the 
Son,  and  of  the  Scriptures." 

For  several  7>nles  together. — By  these 
measures  of  the  Pilgrimage  he  means  days 
and  years  of  his  actual  experience,  during 
which  the  Evil  Spirit  troubled  him  and  did 
abide  with  him.     Two  such  seasons  in  pat- 


Christian  and  the  Fiends. 


121 


DAY  BREAKS  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 

company  of  fiends  coming  to  meet  him,  he  stopped,  and  began  to 
muse  what  he  had  best  to  do.  Sometimes  he  had  half  a„thought  to 
go  back ;  then  again  he  thought  he  might  be  half  way  through  the 
valley ;  he  remembered  also  how  he  had  already  vanquished  many 
a  danger,  and  that  the  danger  of  going  back  might  be  much  more 
than  for  to  go  forward.  So  he  resolved  to  go  on ;  yet  the  fiends 
seemed  to  come  nearer  ;  but  when  they  were  come  even  almost  at 
him,  he  cried  out  with  a  most  vehement  voice,  "  I  will  walk  in  the 
strength  of  the  Lord  God;"  so  they  gave  back,  and  came  no  further. 
One  thing  I  would  not  let  slip :  I  took  notice  that  now  poor 
Christian  was  so  confounded  that  he  did  not  know  his  own  voice. 
And  thus  I  perceived  it:  just  when  he  was  come  over  against  the 
mouth  of  the  burning  pit,  one  of  the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him,  and 
whisperingly  suggested  many  grievous  blasphemies  to  him,  which  he 
verily  thought  had  proceeded  from  his  own  mind.     This  put  Christian 


122 


l%e  Pit gr if) IS  Progress. 


more  to  it  than  anything  that  he  had  met  with  before,  even  to  think 
that  he  should  now  blaspheme  him  that  he  loved  so  much  before. 
Yet  if  he  could  have  helped  it,  he  would  not  have  done  it ;  but  he  had 
not  the  discretion  either  to  stop  his  ears,  or  to  know  from  whence 
those  blasphemies  came. 

When  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate  condidon  some 
considerable  time,  he  thought  he  heard  the  voice  of  a  man,  as  going 
before  him,  saying,  "Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil :  for  thou  art  with  me"   (Ps.  23  :  4). 

Then  was  he  glad,  and  that  for  three  reasons :  first,  because  he 
gathered  from  thence,  that  some  who  feared  God  were  in  this  valley 
as  well  as  himself;  secondly,  for  that  he  perceived  God  was  with 
them  though  in  that  dark  and  dismal  state;  and  why  not,  thought  he, 
with  me,  though  by  reason  of  the  impediment  that  attends  this  place 
I  cannot  perceive  it?  (Job  9:  11)  thirdly,  for  that  he  hoped  (could 
he  overtake  them)  to  have  company  by-and-by.  So  he  went  on,  and 
called  to  him  that  was  before  ;  but  he  knew  not  what  to  answer ;  for 
that  he  also  thought  himself  to  be  alone.  And  by-and-by  the  day 
broke  ;  then  said  Christian,  "  He  hath  turned  the  shadow  of  death  into 
the  morning  "  (Amos  5  :  8) 

Now  morning  being  come,  he  looked  back,  not  of  desire  to  return, 
but  to  see  by  the  light  of  the  day  what  hazards  he  had  gone  through 
in  the  dark.  So  he  saw  more  perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  quag  that  was  on  the  other ;  also  how  narrow  the  way  was 
A^hich  lay  betwixt  them  both.  Also  now  he  saw  the  hobgoblins,  and 
satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit,  but  all  afar  off,  for  after  break  of  the 
day  they  came  not  nigh  ;  yet  they  were  discovered  to  him,  according 
to  that  which  is  written,  "  He  discovereth  deep  things  out  of  darkness, 
and  bringeth  out  to  the  light  the  shadow  of  death  "   (Job  12  :  22). 


ticular  fell  to  his  lot ;  and  one  of  these  con- 
tinued as  long  as  two  years  and  a  half. 
Thus  was  this  man  of  God  deeply  exercised 
in  his  innermost  soul.  But  God  had  a  great 
work  for  him  to  do,  and  he  must  be  disci- 
plined and  prepared  to  do  it,  even  though  it 
be  through  the  fiery  furnace. 

He  heard  the  voice  of  a  man. — Not  only 
the  voice,  but  the  comfortable  words  uttered 
tended  to  the  renewal  of  the  Pilgrim's  joy 
and  gladness.  The  voice  was  heard  sing- 
ing David's  pastoral  song  (Ps.  23),  and  this 
was  comfortable  to  Christian — (i)  Because 
it  was  an  evidence  that  he  was  not  alone  in 


the  Valley.  (2)  Because  it  proved  that  Pil- 
grims could  yet  afford  to  sing  cheerily  and 
joyfully  even  in  the  Valley  of  Death ;  and 
(3)  because  a  promise  was  thereby  given  that 
the  Pilgrim  may  yet  overtake  his  more  ad- 
vanced brother,  and  have  the  enjoyment  of 
his  company. 

"Christ,  thou  bright  and  Morning  Star, 
Now  shed  thy  hght  abroad; 

Shine  on  us  from  tliy  throne  afar 
In  this  dark  place,  dear  Lord, 
With  thy  pure,  glorious  word." 

And  by-and-by  the  day  broke. — The  night 
of  weeping  is  ended,  and  a  morning  of  joy 
appears.     This  tyranny  is  overpast.     After 


Pope  and  Pagan. 


123 


Now  was  Cliristian  much  affected  with  his  deliverance  from  all 
iang"ers  of  his  solitary  way  ;  which  dangers,  though  he  feared  them 
.iiore  before,  yet  he  saw  them  more  clearly  now,  because  the  light  of 
the  day  made  them  conspicuous  to  him.  And  about  this  time  the 
sun  was  rising;  and  this  was  another  mercy  to  Christian  ;  for  you 
miUit  note  that,  though  the  first  part  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death  was  dangerous,  yet  this  second  part,  which  he  was  yet  to  go, 
was,  if  possible,  far  more  dangerous:  for,  from  the  place  where  he 
now  stood  even  to  the  end  of  the  valley,  the  way  was  all  along  set  so 
full  of  snares,  traps,  gns,  and  nets  here,  and  so  full  of  pits,  pitfalls, 
deep  holes,  and  shelvings  down  there,  that  had  it  now  been  dark,  as 
it  was  when  he  came  the  first  part  of  the  way,  had  he  had  a  thousand 
souls,  they  had  in  reason  been  cast  away.  But,  as  I  said  just  now,  the 
sun  was  rising.  Then  said  he,  "His  candle  shineth  on  my  head,  and 
by  his  light  I  go  through  darkness"  (Job  29  :  3), 

In  this  light,  therefore,  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  valley. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  at  the  end  of  this  valley  lay  blood, 
bones,  ashes,  and  mangled  bodies  of  men,  even  of  pilgrims  that  had 
gone  this  way  formerly  ;  and  while  I  was  musing  what  should  be  the 
reason,  I  espied  a  little  before  me  a  cave,  where  two  giants.  Pope  and 
Pagan,  dwelt  in  old  time ;  by  whose  power  and  tyranny  the  men 
whose  bones,  blood,  ashes,  etc.,  lay  there,  were  cruelly  put  to  death. 


midnight  is  far  spent,  the  dawn  of  hope  arises 
on  the  Pilgrim's  soul.  Ye  tried  and  afflicted 
pilgrims,  put  ye  your  trust  in  God ;  he  will 
not  always  chide,  neither  will  he  keep  his 
anger  forever. 

Pope  and  Pagan. — These  are  pictured  as 
iwo  giants — representatives  of  the  power  and 
tyranny  of  olden  times,  that  held  men  bound, 
body  and  soul,  in  the  bondage  of  ignorance 
and  superstition. 

The  allusion  here  is  to  the  cruelties  that 
characterized  the  religion  of  the  heathen, 
who  dwelt  in  the  habitations  of  cruelty  ;  and 
to  the  persecutions  waged  by  the  Church  of 
Rome  against  the  saints  and  martyrs  of  the 
Church  of  God,  who  were  bold  to  confess  the 
faith  of  Christ  crucified,  and,  in  the  face  of 
fiery  persecutions,  counted  not  their  lives 
dear  unto  them.  These  have  been,  indeed, 
two  gigantic  systems — the  one  overspreading 
the  face  of  the  world,  the  other  defiling  the 
face  of  the  Church. 

Paganism  has  reduced  the  Creator  to  the 


level  of  the  creature ;  has  degraded  worship 
to  idolatry,  religion  to  superstition,  revela- 
tion to  mythology,  and  truth  to  fiction.  In 
this,  man  has  been  the  chief  sufferer,  spoiled 
of  his  true  glory,  robbed  of  his  inheritance. 
His  better  nature  has  deteriorated  into  sav- 
agery and  barbarism,  into  cruelty  and  ha- 
tred, into  vice  and  sensuality.  The  finer 
feelings  of  the  soul  have  been  dwarfed  and 
stunted  in  their  growth.  Charity,  sympathy, 
gentleness,  meekness,  and  all  moral  duties, 
are  exchanged  for  physical  force,  treachery, 
torture,  deceit  and  guile.  "  And  even  as 
they  did  not  like  to  retain  God  in  their 
knowledge,  God  gave  them  over  to  a  repro- 
bate mind"  (Rom.  I  :  28). 

Romanism  has  been  to  the  Church  what 
Paganism  has  been  to  the  world — a  spoiler 
of  men's  faith  and  a  persecutor  of  men's 
lives.  It  has  taken  human  nature  as 
its  guide,  and,  accordingly,  has  wrought 
out  a  religious  system  of  curious  and  cun- 
ning work, 


1^4 


The  Pilgrhns  Progress. 


But  by  this  place  Christian  went  without  much  danger,  whereat  1 
somewhat  wondered;  but  I  have  learned  since,  that  Pagan  has  been 
dead  many  a  day ;  and,  as  for  the  other,  though  he  be  yet  alive,  he  is, 
by  reason  of  age,  and  also  of  the  many  shrewed  brushes  that  he  met 
with  in  his  younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  and  stiff  in  his  joints,  that 
he  can  now  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth,  grinning  at 
pilgrims  as  they  go  by,  and  biting  his  nails  because  he  cannot  come 
at  them. 

So  I  saw  that  Christian  went  on  his  way ;  yet,  at  the  sight  of  the 
old  man  that  sat  in  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  he  could  not  tell  what  to 
think ;  specially  because  he  spake  to  him,  though  he  could  not  go 
after  him,  saying,  You  will  never  mend  till  more  of  you  be  burned. 
But  he  held  his  peace,  and  set  a  good  face  on  it,  and  so  went  by  and 
catched  no  hurt. 


DISCONTENT. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Christian  and  Faithful. 

New  views  of  the  Pilgrimage,  new  foes  of  the  Pilgrims,  new  phases  of  temptation, 
anO  new  features  of  resistance,  are  furnished  to  us  in  this  part  of  the  story  There  are  many 
who  have  never  fallen  so  low,  or  risen  so  high,  in  spiritual  experience,  as  Christian  did. 
Faithful  may,  perhaps,  better  suit  their  case.  While  Chh  istiam  has  been  a  deeply  exei- 
cised  man,  severely  tried,  and  so  oft  despairing,  the  career  of  Faithful  has  pursued  tlie 
more  even  tenor  of  its  way,  and  is  more  equable  than  that  of  his  fellow-pilgrim.  It  is 
therefoi  e,  perhaps,  more  assimilated  to  the  ordinary  experience  of  Christians.  Let  us,  tlien, 
give  earnest  heed  to  Faithful's  counsel,  admonition,  and  encouragement. 


OW  as  Christian  went  on  his  way  he  came  to  a  little 
ascent,  which  was  cast  up  on  purpose  that  pilgrims  might 
see  before  them.  Up  there,  therefore,  Christian  went; 
and  looking  forward  he  saw  Faithful  before  him  upon  his 
journey.     Then  said  Christian  aloud,  Ho  ho!  so  ho!  stay, 

and  I  will  be  your  companion.     At  that  Faithful  looked  behind  him  ; 

to   whom   Christian   cried  again,  Stay,  stay,   till  I   come  up  to  you. 

But  Faithful  answered,  No,  I   am   upon  my  life,  and  the  avenger  of 

blood  is  behind  me. 

At  this  Christian  was  somewhat  moved,  and   putting  to  all  his 

strength  he  quickly  got  up  with  Faithful,  and  did  also  overrun  him  ; 


A  little  ascent. — There  are  at  times  pro- 
vided for  the  Christian  standpoints,  for  pur- 
pose of  observation,  with  a  scope  propor- 
tioned to  the  elevation.  We  remember  the 
far-off  prospect,  as  viewed  from  the  heights 
of  the  Palace  Beautiful ;  and  now  the  Pil- 
grim, from  "  a  little  ascent,"  is  enabled  to 
see  "  a  little  in  advance,"  but  sufficiently  far 
for  his  present  requirement — to  discern  his 
future  companion,  Faithful,  somewhat  in 
advance  of  him.  Such  prospects  as  these 
are  useful  and  helpful  to  pilgrims,  sometimes 
near  to,  sometimes  far  off;  at  onetime  to 
reveal  the  outposts  of  the  Celestial  City,  and 
at  another  time  to  present  the  view  of  a 
fellow-pilgrim,  sufficiently  near  to  be  over- 
taken for  sake  of  companionship. 


"  I  am  upon  my  life." — Faithful  seems 
to  consider  himself  unsafe  so  long  as  he  is 
not  hasting  on.  Even  on  the  narrow  way 
he  fears  the  pursuit  of  "  the  avenger  of 
blood."  There  is  a  sense  in  which  Christ, 
apprehended  by  faith,  is  our  City  of  Refuge, 
even  here;  so  that,  if  found  in  him,  we  are 
safe.  And  there  is  yet  another  sense  in 
which  heaven  is  our  Refuge,  and  until  we 
reach  its  safe  harbor  and  enter  its  open 
gates  we  are  not  safe — fully  or  finally  safe. 
In  this  latter  sense  Faithful  estimates  his 
position,  and  therefore  delays  not,  but  speeds 
onward  his  way.  We  have  already  seen 
enough  of  the  road  to  know  that  manifold 
and  great  dangers  beset  the  pilgrims  that 
walk  thereon  ;  and  while  there  is  all  possible 


(125) 


126 


The  Pilgrini  s  Progress. 


so  that  the  last  was  first.  Then  did  Christian  vaingloriously  smile, 
because  he  had  gotten  the  start  of  his  brother ;  but  not  taking  good 
heed  to  his  feet  he  suddenly  stumbled  and  fell,  and  could  not  rise 
again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  they  went  very  lovingly  on  together, 
and  had  sweet  discourse  of  all  things  that  had  happened  to  them  in 
their  pilgrimage  ;  and  thus  Christian  began  : 

My  honored  and  well-beloved  brother  Faithful,  I  am  glad  that 
I  have  overtaken  you,  and  that  God  has  so  tempered  our  spirits 
that  we  can  walk  as  companions  in  this  so  pleasant  a  path. 

Fai.  I  had  thought,  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your  company 
quite  from  our  town,  but  you  did  get  the  start  of  me;  wherefore  I 
was  forced  to  come  thus  much  of  the  way  alone. 

Chr.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  City  of  Destruction,  before 
you  set  out  after  me  on  your  pilgrimage? 

Fai.  Till  I  could  stay  no  longer  ;  for  there  was  great  talk  pres- 
ently after  you  were  gone  out,  that  our  city  would  in  a  short  time 
with  fire  from  heaven  be  burned  down  to  the  ground. 

Chr,    What!  did  your  neighbors  talk  so? 

Fai,    Yes,  it  was  for  a  while  in  everybody's  mouth. 

Chr.  What !  and  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come  out  tf 
escape  the  danger? 


scope  for  faith,  there  must  be  no  yielding  to 
presumption. 

Suddenly  sttcinblcd  and  fell. — Faithful, 
though  he  has  started  later  from  the  City  of 
Destruction,  yet  has  he  gained  the  advance 
of  his  brother:  "the  last  shall  be  first." 
And  now  Christian  overtakes  and  over- 
runs his  fellow,  and,  vaingloriously  priding 
himself  on  his  advantage,  he  stumbled  and 
fell:  "the  first  shall  be  last."  That  vain- 
glorious smile  that  played  upon  the  lips  of 
Christian  was  the  rising  indication  of  the 
carnal  nature  still  living  and  working  in 
him ;  and,  accordingly,  this  man,  ever 
taught  deep  lessons  by  hard  discipline,  is  by 
another  fall  taught  a  lesson  of  humility  and 
watchfulness. 

Had  sweet  discojirse. — Fellow-pilgrims  are 
allowed  to  bear  each  other  company,  so  that 
they  may  entertain  and  encourage  each  other 
in  Christian  conversation  :  "They  that  feared 
the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another"  (Mai. 
3:   16).      The  discourse  of  these  men  tvirn^ 


upon  their  experiences  of  the  way.  They 
had  been  fellow-townsmen  in  the  City  of 
Destruction,  and  are  now  fellow-travellers  to 
the  City  of  Zion.  Faithful,  having  started 
later  than  Christian,  is  enabled  to  report 
the  more  recent  intelligence  of  the  doings  of 
the  citizens  of  Destruction.  And,  first  of  all, 
he  reports  that  Christian's  setting  out 
on  pilgrimage  had  caused  an  awakening 
and  inquiry  about  his  expedition,  and  the 
object  of  it.  The  majority  talked  disparag- 
ingly of  his  undertaking;  but  convictions 
were  awakened  in  at  least  the  mind  of 
Faithful  who,  feeling  that  "  Destruction  " 
was  not  only  destroying  many  souls,  but  was 
also  itself  to  be  destroyed,  made  haste  to 
escape,  and  to  follow  as  speedily  as  possible 
the  example  of  Christian.  The  example 
of  a  sinner  forsaking  sin  and  the  associations 
of  sin  is  not  without  its  effect  upon  those 
that  are  left  behind.  Such  influences  are 
felt,  and  often  tend  to  bring  forth  bles§ed 
results. 


Christian  a?id  Faithful. 


127 


Fai.  Though  there  was,  as  I  said,  a  great  talk  thereabout,  yet 
1  do  not  think  they  did  firmly  believe  it.  For,  in  the  heat  of  the  dis- 
course, I  heard  some  of  them  deridingly  speak  of  you,  and  of  your 
desperate  journey  ;  for  so  they  called  this  your  pilgrimage.  But  I  did 
believe,  and  do  still,  that  the  end  of  our  city  will  be  with  fire  and 
brimstone  from  above;  and  therefore  I  have  made  mine  escape. 

Chk.    Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  neighbor  Pliable? 

Fai.  Yes,  Christian,  I  heard  that  he  followed  you  till  he  came 
at  the  Slough  of  Despond;  where,  as  some  said,  he  fell  in  ;  but  h'- 
would  not  be  known  to  have  so  done  ;  but  I  am  sure  he  was  soundly 
bedabbled  with  that  kind  of  dirt. 

Chr.    And  what  said  the  neighbors  to  him  ? 

Fai.  He  hath,  since  his  going  back,  been  had  greatly  in  deri- 
sion, and  that  among  all  sorts  of  people  ;  some  do  mock  and  despise 
him,  and  scarce  will  any  set  him  on  work.  He  is  now  seven  times 
worse  than  if  he  had  never  gone  out  of  the  city. 

Chr.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him,  since  they 
also  despised  the  way  that  he  forsook  ? 

Fai.  Oh  !  they  say,  hang  him  ;  he  is  turn-coat !  he  was  not 
true  to  his  profession  !  I  think  God  has  stirred  up  even  his  enemies 
to  hiss  at  him,  and  make  him  a  proverb,  because  he  hath  forsaken 
the  way  (Jer.  29  :  i8,  19). 

Chr.    Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came  out? 

Fai.  I  met  him  once  in  the  streets,  but  he  leered  away  on  the 
other  side,  as  one  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done ;  so  I  spake  not 
to  him. 

Chr.  Well,  at  my  first  setting  out,  I  had  hopes  of  that  man;  but 
now  I  fear  he  will  perish  in  the  overthrow  of  the  city;  for  "it  hath 
happened  to  him  according  to  the  true  proverb,  The  dog  is  turned  to 
his  own  vomit  again;  and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her  wallowing 
in  the  mire"  (2  Peter  2:  22). 

Fai.  They  are  my  fears  of  him  too;  but  who  can  hinder  that 
which  will  be? 

Well,  neighbor  Faithful,  said  Christian,  let  us  leave  him,  and 
talk  of  things  that  more  immediately  concern  ourselves.      Tell  me  now 


In  this  conversation  "  neighbor  Pliable  " 
',is  also  called  to  mind.  We  are  informed  of 
his  return  to  Destruction,  his  reception  by 
his  old  companions  ;  their  not  very  flattering 
opinion  respecting  him,  and  that  he  is  now 
worse  than  if  he  had  never  set  out  a^  all. 


Things  that  concern  ourselves. — This  is  wise 
counsel  of  Christian.  Our  disposition  gen 
erally  is  rather  to  talk  of  others  than  look 
to  ourselves ;  to  speak  of  the  failure  of  other 
men  rather  than  review  our  own  progress. 
We  are  now  enabled  to  read  the  records  of 


128 


The  Pilgj'im  s  Progress, 


FAITHFUL  COMES  TO  THE  HELP  OF  CHRISTIAN. 

what  you  have  met  with  in  the  way  as  you  came;  for  I  know  you  have 
met  with  some  things,  or  else  it  may  be  writ  for  a  wonder. 

Fat.  I  escaped  the  Slough  that  I  perceive  you  fell  into,  and  got 
up  to  the  gate  without  that  danger  ;  only  I  met  with  one  whose  name 
was  Wanton,  that  had  like  to  have  done  me  a  mischief. 

Chr.  It  was  well  you  escaped  her  net ;  Joseph  was  hard  put  to 
it  by  her,  and  he  escaped  her  as  you  did;  but  it  had  like  to  have  cost 
him  his  life  (Gen.  39:  1 1-13).      But  what  did  she  do  to  you  ? 

Fai.  You  cannot  tliink,  but  that  you  know  something,  what  a 
flattering  tongue  she  had ;  she  lay  at  me  hard  to  turn  aside  with  her, 
promising  me  all  manner  of  content. 


a  second  pilgrimage,  in  the  experience  of  a 
new  Pilgrim,  whose  name  is  Faithful. 

In  this  review,  it  appears  that  Faithful 
escaped  most  of  the  dangers  that  had  be- 
fallen his  friend,  but  had  encountered  other 
and  different  temptations  and  snares,  which 


specially  beset  his  own  path.  His  progress 
to  the  Wicket-gate  was,  indeed,  without  the 
downfall  of  Despond,  and  without  the  inter- 
vention of  Worldlv-wisf.man's  ill  advice; 
and  yet  not  altogether  without  danger,  for 
one  whose  name  was  Want'W  crossed  his 


FAITHFUL   HELPS -CHRISTIAN 


THE  PORTER   CALLS   DLSCKEnoN    TO   THE   DOOR   OF   THE   PALACE. 


Christian  and  Faithful. 


129 


Chr.  Nay,  she  did  not  promise  you  the  content  of  a  good  con- 
science. 

Fai.    You  know  what  I  mean — all  carnal  and  fleshly  content. 

Chr.  Thank  God  you  have  escaped  her ;  "  the  abhorred  of  the 
Lord  shall  fall  into  her  ditch"  (Prov.  22:  14). 

Fai.    Nay,  I  know  not  whether  I  did  wholly  escape  her  or  no. 

Chr.    Why,  I  trow  you  did  not  consent  to  her  desires. 

Fai,  No,  not  to  defile  myself;  for  I  remembered  an  old  writing 
that  I  had  seen,  which  saith,  "  Her  steps  take  hold  on  hell"  (Prov. 
5:4).  So  I  shut  mine  eyes  because  I  would  not  be  bewitched  with 
her  looks  (Job  31:  i);  then  she  railed  on  me,  and  I  went  my  way. 

Chr.    Did  )ou  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you  came? 

Fai.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  called  Difficulty,  I  met 
with  a  very  aged  man,  who  asked  me  what  I  was,  and  whither  bound  ? 
I  told  him  that  I  was  a  pilgrim  going  to  the  Celestial  Cit}^  Then 
said  the  old  man.  Thou  lookest  like  an  honest  fellow :  wilt  thou  be 
content  to  dwell  with  me  for  the  wages  that  I  shall  give  thee?  Then 
I  asked  him  his  name,  and  where  he  dwelt  ?  He  said  his  name  was 
Adam  the  First,  and  I  dwell  in  the  town  of  Deceit  (Eph.  4:  22).  I 
asked  him  then  what  was  his  work?  and  what  wages  that  he  would 
give?  He  told  me  that  his  work  was  many  delights  ;  and  his  wages, 
that  I  should  be  his  heir  at  last.  I  further  asked  him  what  house  he 
kept,  and  what  other  servants  he  had  ?  So  he  told  me,  that  his  house 
was  maintained  with  all  the  dainties  in  the  world,  and  that  his  ser- 
vants were  those  of  his  own  begetting.  Then  I  asked  how  many 
children  he  had?  He  said  that  he  had  but  three  daughters,  "the 
Lust  of  the  flesh,  the  Lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  Pride  of  life  ;"  and  that 
I  should  marry  them  if  I  would  (i  John  2  :  16).     Then  I  asked  how 


path,  and  sought  to  lure  him  into  her  net. 
There  are  many  pilgrims  who  would  see'ri 
for  the  "  steps  "  in  Despond,  and  stoutly  re- 
sist the  plea  of  self-righteousness,  who  yet, 
through  the  weakness  of  their  nature,  would 
yield  themselves  to  the  winning  ways  and 
seductive  influences  of  this  temptation  of 
the  flesh,  and  thus  fall  away  into  peril  more 
deep  and  miry  than  Despond. 

In  climbing  this  hill,  a  more  easy  and 
gentle  service  is  offered  by  an  aged  man, 
whose  ?ray  hairs  would,  at  first  sight,  seem 
to  clami  respect  for  his  advice  and  counsel. 
This  was  Adam  the  Fihst — the  old  Adam, 

9 


"  of  the  earth,  earthy  " — whose  sjrvice  and 
work  and  wages  are  all  carnal  and  corrupt- 
ible. 

Faithful  was  enabled  to  resist  the  over- 
tures of  "  the  old  man."  But  with  what 
rending  of  the  flesh  and  spirit  is  this  parting 
made  between  the  Christian  and  the  old 
Adam  !  It  needs  a  violent  effort,  and  great 
grace  withal,  to  be  delivered  fully  from  "the 
body  of  this  death."  And  even  then  we 
are  not  wholly  rid  of  his  influence ;  for, 
moved  with  malice  and  hatred  against  us, 
he  stirs  up  many  a  foe,  and  sends  many  a 
messenger  of  Satan  to  buffet  us. 


130 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


long  time  he  would  have  me  to  live  with  him  ?  And  he  told  me,  as 
lonor  as  he  lived  himself. 

Chr.  Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man  and  you  to 
at  last  ? 

Fai.  Why,  at  first  I  found  myself  somewhat  inclinable  to  go 
with  the  man,  for  I  thought  he  spake  very  fair ;  but  looking  in  his 
forehead  as  I  talked  with  him,  I  saw  there  written,  "Put  off  the  old 
man  with  his  deeds." 

Chr.    And  how  then  ? 

Fai.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mind,  whatever  he  said, 
and  however  he  flattered,  when  he  got  me  home  to  his  house  he 
would  sell  me  for  a  slave.  So  I  bid  him  forbear  to  talk,  for  I  would 
not  come  near  the  door  of  his  house.  Then  he  reviled  me,  and  told 
me,  that  he  would  send  such  a  one  after  me  that  should  make  my 
way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  I  turned  to  go  away  with  him ;  but  just 
as  I  turned  myself  to  go  thence,  I  felt  him  take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and 
give  me  such  a  deadly  twitch  back,  that  I  thought  he  had  pulled  part 
of  me  after  himself.  This  made  me  cry,  "  O  wretched  man  !"  (Rom. 
7  :  24).     So  I  went  on  my  way  up  the  hill. 

Now,  when  I  had  got  about  half  way  up,  I  looked  behind  me, 
and  saw  one  coming  after  me,  swift  as  the  wind ;  so  he  overtook  me 
just  about  the  place  where  the  settle  stands. 

Just  there,  said  Christian,  did  I  sit  down  to  rest  me ;  but, 
being  overcome  with  sleep,  I  there  lost  this  Roll  out  of  my  bosom. 

Fai.  But,  eood  brother,  hear  me  out ;  so  soon  as  the  man  over- 
took  me,  he  was  but  a  word  and  a  blow,  for  down  he  knocked  me, 
and  laid  me  for  dead.     But,  when  I  was  a    litde  come  to  myself 


The  place  where  the  settle  stands. — Here, 
again,  their  experiences  meet,  though  in  a 
different  form.  At  the  place  where  Chris- 
tian lost  his  Roll,  Faithful  encountered 
another  and  different  downfall.  One,  whose 
name  was  Moses,  overtook  him,  and  dealt 
hardly  with— him  sharply,  abruptly,  severely, 
mercilessly.  It  is  a  brief  scene,  but  elo- 
quently instructive — a  word,  a  blow ;  the 
Pilgrim  falls ;  another  blow,  and  he  is  as 
one  dead ;  a  plea  for  mercy,  and  in  reply, 
not  mercy,  but  another  blow!  This  disci- 
pline of  chastisement  and  wrath  is  stayed 
by  the  interposition  of  One  who  passed  by. 

There  is  no  more  telling  or  touching  sen- 
timent in  the   whole  Pilgrim's  Progress 


than  that  which  describes  the  marks  by 
which  this  passing  Stranger  is  recognized — 
"  I  perceived  the  holes  in  his  hands  and  in 
his  side !  "  It  is  but  a  single  touch  of  the 
pencil,  and  lo,  a  complete  picture  stands  be- 
fore the  eye,  illustrative  of  the  great  truth — 
"  The  Law  was  given  by  Moses,  but  grace 
and  truth  came  of  Jesus  Christ."  Bunyan 
well  describes  the  power  and  wrath  of  the 
Law,  where,  in  his  treatise  on  "Justifica- 
tion," he  writes — "As  the  Law  giveth  no 
strength,  nor  life  to  keep  it,  so  it  accepeth 
none  of  them  that  are  under  it.  Sin  and 
die,  is  forever  its  language.  There  is  no 
middle  way  in  the  Law.  It  hath  not  ears  to 
hear,  nor  heart  to  pity  its  penitent  ones." 


The  Old  Man  and  Faithful. 


131 


again,  I  asked  him  wherefore  he  served  me  so  ?  He  said,  because 
of  my  secret  inclining  to  Adam  the  First;  and  with  that  he  struck  me 
another  deadly  blow  on  the  breast,  and  beat  me  down  backward ;  so 
I  lay  at  his  feet  as  dead,  as  before.  So  when  I  came  to  myself  again 
I  cried  him  mercy  ;  but  he  said,  I  know  not  how  to  show  mercy;  and 
with  that  he  knocked  me  down  again.  He  had  doubtless  made  an 
end  of  me,  but  that  one  came  by  and  bid  him  forbear. 

Chr.    Who  was  it  that  bid  him  forbear  ? 

Fai.  I  did  not  know  him  at  first,  but  as  he  went  by  I  perceived 
the  holes  in  his  hands  and  in  his  side  :  then  I  concluded  that  he  was 
our  Lord.     So  I  went  up  the  hill. 

Chr.  That  man  that  overtook  you  was  Moses.  He  spareth 
not,  neither  knoweth  he  how  to  show  mercy  to  those  that  transgress 
his  law. 

Fai.  I  know  it  very  well ;  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  he  has  met 
with  me.  It  was  he  who  came  to  me  when  I  dwelt  securely  at  home, 
and  that  told  me  he  would  burn  my  house  over  my  head  if  I  stayed 
there. 

Chr.  But  did  you  see  the  house  that  stood  there  on  the  top  oi 
that  hill  on  the  side  of  which  Moses  met  you  ? 

Fai.  Yes,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I  came  at  it ;  but  for  the 
lions,  I  think  they  were  asleep ;  for  it  was  about  noon  ;  and  because 
I  had  so  much  of  the  day  before  me,  I  passed  by  the  porter  and 
came  down  the  hill. 

Chr.  He  told  me,  indeed,  that  he  saw  you  go  by  ;  but  I  wish  you 
had  called  at  the  house,  for  they  would  have  showed  you  so  many 
rarities  that  you  would  scarce  have  forgot  them  to  the  day  of  your 
death.  But  pray  tell  me,  did  you  meet  nobody  in  the  valley  of 
Humility? 

Fai.  Yes,  I  met  with  one  Discontent,  who  would  willingly  have 
persuaded  me  to  go  back  again  with  him  ;  his  reason  was,  for  that  the 
valley  was  altogether  without  honor.  He  told  me,  moreover,  that 
there  to  go  was  the  way  to  disoblige  all  my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arro- 


And  in  this  remarkable  scene  he  beautifully 
describes  the  power  and  grace  of  Jesus  :  by 
those  wounds  in  his  hands,  and  in  his  feet, 
and  in  his  side,  he  delivers  us  from  the  Law. 
He  passes  by,  and  bids  the  Law  refrain,  be- 
cause those  open  wounds  have  satisfied  all 
its  weightiest  demands  upon  the  sinner,  and 
preient  to  us  a  better  than  a  legal  righteous- 


ness— the  righteousness  of  God  in   Christ. 
"  By  his  stripes  we  are  healed." 

I  met  one  Discontent. — Such  are  some  of 
the  enemies  we  meet  with  on  the  road,  who 
assault  the  citadel  of  the  soul,  and  strive  to 
take  it,  and  dislodge  the  great  Master  that 
reigns  within.  There  are  also  other  ene- 
mies that  are  as  thorns  in  the  side  of  the 


H 
H 


O 

o 

D 

r-" 

C/2 

D 

H 


Shame  s  Discourse  with  Faithful. 


133 


gancy,  Self-conceit,  Worldly-glory,  with  others,  who  he  knew,  as  he 
said,  would  be  very  much  offended  if  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself  as 
to  wade  through  this  valley. 

Chr.    Well, and  how  did  you  answer  him? 

Fai.  I  told  him  that,  although  all  these  that  he  named  might  claim 
kindred  of  me,  and  that  rightly  (for  indeed  they  were  my  relations 
according  to  the  flesh),  yet  since  I  have  become  a  pilgrim  they  have 
disowned  me,  as  I  have  also  rejected  them,  and  therefore  they  are 
now  no  more  than  if  they  had  never  been  of  my  lineage.  I  told  him, 
moreover,  that  as  to  this  valley  he  had  quite  misrepresented  the  thing; 
for  "  before  honor  is  humility,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall," 
Therefore,  said  I,  I  had  rather  go  through  this  valley  to  the  honor 
that  was  so  accounted  by  the  wisest,  than  choose  that  which  he 
esteemed  most  worthy  our  affections. 

Chr.    Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley? 

Fai.  Yes,  I  met  with  Shame ;  but  of  all  the  men  that  I  met  with 
in  my  pilgrimage,  he,  I  think,  bears  the  wrong  name.  The  other 
would  be  said  nay,  after  a  little  argumentation  and  somewhat  else  ; 
but  this  bold-faced  Shame  would  never  have  done. 

Chr.    Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ? 

Fai.  What!  why  he  objected  against  religion  itself.  He  said,  it 
was  a  pitiful,  low,  sneaking  business  for  a  maa  to  mind  religion  ;  he 
said,  that  a  tender  conscience  was  an  unmanly  thing;  and  that  for  a 
man  to  watch  over  his  words  and  ways,  so  as  to  tie  up  himself  from 
that  hectoring  liberty  that  the  brave  spirits  of  the  times  accustom 
themselves  unto,  would  make  him  the  ridicule  of  the  times.  He  ob- 
jected, also,  that  but  few  of  the  mighty,  rich,  or  wise  were  ever  of  my 
opinion  ;  nor  any  of  them  neither,  before  they  were  persuaded  to  be 
fools,  and  to  be  of  a  voluntary  fondness  to  venture  the  loss  of  all  for 
nobody  else  knows  what.  He,  moreover,  objected  the  base  and  low 
estate  and  condition  of  those  that  were  chiefly  the  pilgrims  of  the 
times  in  which  they  lived  ;  also  their  ignorance,  and  want  of  under- 
standing in  all  natural  science   (John  7 :  48  ;    i   Cor.  i:  26;  3;   18; 


Pilgrim,  annoying  and  harassing  him  with  a 
vexatious  warfare.  Of  this  latter  class  was 
Discontent.  He  appeals  to  the  temper 
and  spirit  of  Faithful,  and  is  a  type  of  a 
large  class  of  men  with  whom  we  meet  in 
the  world. 

Discontent  has   succeeded    in    turning 
away  many  from  the  better  land,  by  sug- 


gesting worldly  motives,  and  proposing  th» 
objections  of  worldly  minds.  Disconten'' 
meets  many  of  us  day  by  day.  And  as  thi*> 
kind  of  temptation  is  frequent,  so  the  an- 
swer of  Faithful  is  important :  he  pleads 
a  full  and  final  break-off  of  kindred  and  ac- 
quaintance ;  and  this  severing  of  the  ties  of 
friendship  is  mutual — "they  have  disowned 


134 


The  Pilgrinis  Progress. 


Phil.  3  :  7-9).  Yea,  he  did  hold  me  to  it  at  that  rate  also  about  a 
great  many  more  things  than  here  I  relate :  as,  that  it  was  a  shame 
to  sit  whining  and  mourning  under  a  sermon,  and  a  shame  to  come 
sighing  and  groaning  home ;  that  it  was  a  shame  to  ask  my  neigh- 
bor forgiveness  for  petty  faults,  or  to  make  restitution  where  I  had 
taken  from  any.  He  said  also,  that  religion  made  a  man  grow  strange 
to  the  great,  because  of  a  few  vices  (which  he  called  by  finer  names), 
and  made  him  own  and  respect  the  base,  because  of  the  same  religious 
fraternity  ;  and  is  not  this,  said  he,  a  shame  ? 

Chr.    And  what  did  you  say  to  him  ? 

Fai.  Say  !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first.  Yea,  he  put  me 
so  to  it  that  my  blood  came  up  in  my  face  ;  even  this  Shame  fetched 
it  up,  and  had  also  beat  me  quite  off.  But  at  last  I  began  to  con- 
sider that  "that  which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men  is  abomination 
in  the  sight  of  God"  (Luke  16:  15).  And  I  thought  again,  this 
Shame  tells  me  what  men  are ;  but  he  tells  me  nothing  what  God  or 
the  Word  of  God  is.  And  I  thought,  moreover,  that  at  the  day  of 
doom  we  shall  not  be  doomed  to  death  or  life  according  to  the 
hectoring  spirits  of  the  world,  but  according  to  the  wisdom  and  law 
of  the  Highest.  Therefore,  thought  I,  what  God  says  is  best,  z>  best, 
though  all  the  men  in  the  world  are  against  it ;  seeing  then  that  God 
prefers  his  religion  ;  seeing  God  prefers  a  tender  conscience  ;  seeing 
they  that  make  themselves  fools  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are 
wisest ;  and  that  the  poor  man  that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the 
greatest  man  in  the  world  that  hates  him  ;  Shame,  depart,  thou  art 
an  enemy  to  my  salvation  ;  shall  I  entertain  thee  against  my  sovereign 
Lord?  how  then  shall  I  look  him  in  the  face  at  his  coming?  (Mark 
8  :  38).  Should  I  now  be  ashamed  of  his  ways  and  servants,  how- 
can  I  expect  the  blessing  ?  But  indeed  this  Shame  was  a  bold  villain; 
I  could  scarce  shake  him  out  of  my  company  ;  yea,  he  would  be 
haunting  of  me,  and  continually  whispering  me  in  the  ear,  with  some 
one  or  other  of  the  infirmities  that  attend  reliorion  ;  but  at  last  I  told 


me,  and  I  also  have  rejected  them."  He 
therefore  has  no  more  duties  of  friendship  to 
perform  towards  them  ;  nor  can  they  now  de- 
mand that  he  shall  so  shape  his  conduct 
as  to  please  them.  Their  pleasures  are  not 
his  pleasures  now  ;  nor  are  their  ways  his 
ways.  He  Ukes  what  they  dislike;  they 
hate  what  he  loves. 

/  imt  with  Shame. — It  is  not  every  Pil- 
grim that   is    appointed  to  meet  the  great 


Apollyon  in  the  Valley  as  Christian  did; 
but  in  the  footsteps  of  Faithful's  pilgrim- 
age most  of  God's  servants  have  trod,  and 
are  still  called  to  tread.  Many  a  man  who 
is  a  hero  in  earthly  things  is  but  a  very  cow- 
ard in  spiritual  things.  Many  a  brave  sol- 
dier, who  would  not  hesitate  to  walk  up  to 
the  cannon's  mouth,  is  yet  deterred  from 
following  Christ  by  the  ridicule  of  his  com- 
rades.    These    weapons    of    shame    have 


Christians  Talk  with  Faithful, 


135 


FAITHFUL  RESISTS  SHAME. 

him,  it  was  but  in  vain  to  attempt  further  in  this  business  ;  for  those 
things  that  he  disdained,  in  those  did  I  see  most  glory ;  and  so  at 
last  I  got  past  this  importunate  one.  And  when  I  had  shaken  him 
off,  then  I  began  to  sing : 

The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal, 
That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call, 
Are  manifold  and  suited  to  the  flesh, 
And  come,  and  come,  and  come  again  afresh ; 
That  now,  or  some  time  else,  we  by  them  may 
Be  taken,  overcome,  and  cast  away. 
Oh,  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims  then 
Be  vigilant  and  quit  themselves  like  men. 

Chr.    I  am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  withstand  this  villain 
so  bravely  ;  for  of  all,  as  thou  sayest,  I  think  he  has  the  wrong  name; 


driven  off  many,  who  have  consequently 
gone  back,  and  walked  henceforth  in  the 
paths  of  error  and  of  evil. 

Sunshine  all  the  rest  of  the  way. — With 


the  last-named  temptation,  the  earlier  trials 
of  Faithful  seem  to  have  concluded,  and 
for  his  consistency  he  is  rewarded  with  clear 
sunshine  to  enlighten  his  path,  where  other- 


136 


The  Pilgrim* s  Progress. 


for  he  is  so  bold  as  to  follow  us  in  the  streets,  and  to  attempt  to  put 
us  to  shame  before  all  men  ;  that  is,  to  make  us  ashamed  of  that 
which  is  good.  But,  if  he  was  not  himself  audacious,  he  would 
never  attempt  to  do  as  he  does ;  but  let  us  still  resist  him,  for,  not- 
withstanding all  his  bravadoes,  he  promoteth  the  fool,  and  none  else. 
''The  wise  shall  inherit  glory,"  said  Solomon,  "but  shame  shall  be 
tJie  promotion  of  fools"  (Prov.  3:  35). 

Fai,  I  think  we  must  cry  to  Him,  for  help  against  Shame,  that 
would  have  us  be  "  valiant  for  truth  upon  the  earth." 

Chr.  You  say  true  ;  but  did  you  meet  nobody  else  in  that 
valley  ? 

Fai.  No,  not  I ;  for  I  had  sunshine  all  the  rest  of  the  way 
through  that,  and  also  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

Chr.  It  was  well  for  you  ;  I  am  sure  it  fared  far  otherwise 
with  me.  I  had  for  a  long  season,  as  soon  almost  as  I  entered  into 
that  valley,  a  dreadful  combat  with  that  foul  fiend  Apollyon  ;  yea,  I 
thought  verily  he  would  have  killed  me,  especially  when  he  got  me 
down  and  crushed  me  under  him,  as  if  he  would  have  crushed  me 
to  pieces ;  for  as  he  threw  me,  my  sword  flew  out  of  my  hand. 
Nay,  he  told  me  he  was  sure  of  me;  but  I  "cried  to  God,  and  he 
heard  me,  and  delivered  me  out  of  all  my  troubles."  Then  I 
entered  into  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  had  no  light 
for  almost  half  the  way  through  it.  I  thought  I  should  have  been 
killed  there  over  and  over;  but  at  last  day  broke,  and  the  sun 
rose,  and  I  went  through  that  which  was  behind  with  far  more  ease 
and  quiet. 


wise  he  would  have  been  most  exposed  to 
danger  and  disaster — in  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death. 

How  diverse  are  the  experiences  of  God's 
children  !  Sometimes  through  severity,  and 
sometimes  through  gentleness  (but  in  the 
severest  discipline  there  is  goodness  still) 
are  they  led  all  the  way  to  their  journey's 
end  Where  one  man  has  darkness  and 
devils  to  deal  with,  another  has  God's 
blessed  sunshine  to  cheer  him,  his  rod  and 
**is  staff  to  comfort  him.    It  is  an  alternat- 


ing experience ;  not  always  darkness,  nor 
always  sunshine,  but  some  of  each ;  and, 
perhaps,  each  by  turns.  Thus  it  is  that  God 
leads  his  people ;  and  his  all-wise  provi- 
dence appoints  the  hard  or  easy,  the  joyful 
or  the  sorrowful,  the  bitter  or  the  sweet.  To- 
day at  Marah's  bitter  waters  ;  to-morrow  be- 
neath the  shade  of  Elim's  palm  trees. 

"  So  it  is  here  with  us  on  earth,  and  so 
I  do  remember  it  has  ever  been  : 

The  bitter  and  the  sweet,  the  grief  and  joy. 
Lie  near  together,  but  a  day  betweea." 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Talkative. 

In  the  following  scene,  a  man  whose  nanme  is  Talkative  joins  himself  to  the  Pil- 
grims. The  experience  of  Christian  enables  him  at  once  to  take  the  measure  of  the  man, 
and  to  detect  the  hoUowness  of  his  profession.  Faithful  is  for  a  time  deceived ;  he  is 
even  captivated  by  this  "brave  companion,"  who,  to  his  mind,  promises  to  make  "a  very 
excellent  Pilgrim  "  And  here  commences  one  of  those  self-drawn  pictures  which  are  found 
at  intervals  throughout  the  narrative.  The  talkative  professor  is  a  type  of  a  class  of  pro- 
fessing Christians.  It  has  been  said,  "  The  deepest  waters  are  the  most  silent ;  empty  ves- 
sels make  the  greatest  sound,  and  tinkling  cymbals  the  worst  music." 

jOREOVER,  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  as  they  went  on, 
Faithful,  as  he  chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man, 
whose  name  is  Talkative,  walking  at  a  distance  besides 
them;  for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough  lor  them 
all  to  walk.  He  was  a  tall  man,  and  something  more 
comely  at  a  distance  than  at  hand.  To  this  man  Faithful  addressed 
himself  in  this  manner: 

Friend,  whither  away?    are  you  going  to  the  heavenly  country? 
Talk.    I  am  going  to  that  same  place. 

Fai.  That  is  well ;  then  I  hope  we  may  have  your  good 
company  ? 

Talk.    With  a  very  good  will  will  I  be  your  companion. 
Fal    Come  on  then,  and  let  us  go  together,  and  let  us  spend  our 
time  in  discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 

Talk.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very  acceptable, 
with  you  or  with  any  other ;  and  I  am  glad  that  I  have  met  with  those 
that  incline  to  so  good  a  work.  For,  to  speak  the  truth,  there  are  but 
few  that  care  thus  to  spend  their  time,  as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but 
choose  much  rather  to  be  speaking  of  things  to  no  profit ;  and  this 
hath  been  a  trouble  to  me. 

Fax.    That  is  indeed  a  thing  to  be  lamented ;  for  what  thing  so 


Whose  name  is  Talkative. — The  skill  of 
the  writer  enables  him  to  allow  T.^lkative 
to  draw  his  own  picture,  and  to  represent  his 
own  character.     And  as  he  reveals  himself, 


he  is  a  mere  flippant  talker,  a  shallow  pro- 
fessor. 

To  talk  of  the  things  of  God. — This  is  the 
sum  and  substance  of  Talkative's  idea  of 


(137) 


138 


The  Pilgrirn  s  Progress. 


worthy  of  the  use  of  the  tongue  and  mouth  of  men  on  earth,  as  are 
the  things  of  the  God  of  heaven  ? 

Talk.  I  Hke  you  wonderful  well,  for  your  saying  Is  full  of  convic- 
tion ;  and,  I  will  add,  what  thing  is  so  pleasant,  and  what  so  profitable, 
as  to  talk  of  the  things  of  God  ?  What  thing  is  so  pleasant?  that  is, 
if  a  man  hath  any  delight  in  things  that  are  wonderful ;  for  instance,  if 
a  man  doth  delight  to  talk  of  the  history  or  the  mystery  of  things;  or 
if  a  man  doth  love  to  talk  of  miracles,  wonders,  or  signs  ;  where  shall 
he  find  things  recorded  so  delightful,  and  so  sweetly  penned,  as  in  the 
Holy  Scripture? 

Fai.  That's  true ;  but  to  be  profited  by  such  things  in  our  talk 
should  be  that  which  we  design. 

Talk.  That  is  it  that  I  said;  for  to  talk  of  such  things  is  most 
profitable  ;  for  by  so  doing  a  man  may  get  knowledge  of  many  things  ; 
as  of  the  vanity  of  earthly  things,  and  the  benefit  of  things  above. 
Thus  in  general ;  but,  more  particularly,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  the 
necessity  of  the  new  birth;  the  insufficiency  of  our  works;  the  need 
of  Christ's  righteousness,  etc.  Besides,  by  this,  a  man  may  learn  by 
talk  w^hat  it  is  to  repent,  to  believe,  to  pray,  to  suft'er,  or  the  like.  By 
this  also  a  man  may  learn  what  are  the  great  promises  and  consolations 
of  the  Gospel ;  to  his  own  comfort.  Further,  by  this  a  man  may  learn 
to  refute  false  opinions,  to  vindicate  the  truth,  and  also  to  instruct  the 
ignorant. 

Fai.    All  this  is  true,  and  glad  I  am  to  hear  these  things  from  you. 

Talk.  Alas  !  the  want  of  this  is  the  cause  that  so  few  understand 
the  need  of  faith,  and  the  necessity  of  a  work  of  grace  in  their  soul, 
in  order  to  eternal  life  ;  but  ignorantly  live  in  the  works  of  the  law,  by 
the  which  a  man  can  by  no  means  obtain  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


religion — "to  talk."  And  the  subject-mat- 
ter of  his  conversation  further  discloses  the 
lack  of  heartfelt,  experimental  religion ;  for 
his  topics  are  such  as  "  history,  mystery, 
miracles,  wonders,  and  signs."  These  sub- 
jects, no  doubt,  are  calculated  to  interest  and 
instruct  true  Christian  students,  if,  as  Faith- 
ful says,  they  are  studied  to  the  "profit" 
of  the  soul.  But  it  is  not  with  this  view  that 
Talkative  indulges  in  his  wordy  specula- 
tions. His  object  is  simply  to  get,  or,  more 
likely,  to  display,  "knowledge" — "striving 
about  words  to  no  profit,  but  to  the  subvert- 
ing of  the  hearers." 

To  what  length  men  may  "talk"  about 


religion,  and  how  near  they  may,  all  the 
time,  keep  to  the  strict  propriety  of  Christian 
conversation,  appears  from  the  circumstance 
that,  till  better  informed  by  his  more  experi- 
enced brother,  Faithful  was  altogether 
deceived  by  the  specious  language  of  this 
talkative  professor.  Faithful  seems  to 
have  regarded  him  not  with  suspicion,  but 
with  "  wonder,"  and  perhaps  with  admira- 
tion, when  he  thus  lightly  tripped  along  the 
whole  permanent  way  of  successive  topics, 
upon  which  he  was  ready  to  discourse : 
anything  on  any  subject,  in  heaven  or  on 
earth ;  on  morals  or  religion  ;  on  secular  or 
sacred  things  ;  on  the  history  of  the  past,  or 


c 

O 
P 

o 

w 
> 

H 

< 


140 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Fai.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of  these  is  the  gift 
of  God  ;  no  man  attaineth  to  them  by  human  industry,  or  only  by  the 
talk  of  them. 

Talk.  All  this  I  know  very  well ;  for  a  man  can  receive  nothing 
except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven  ;  all  is  of  grace,  not  of  works.  I 
could  give  you  a  hundred  scriptures  for  the  confirmation  of  this. 

Well,  then,  said  Faithful,  what  is  that  one  thing  that  we  shall  at 
tliis  time  found  our  discourse  upon? 

Talk.  What  you  will ;  I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly  or  things 
earthly;  things  moral  or  things  evangelical ;  things  sacred  or  things 
profane;  things  past  or  things  to  come;  things  foreign  or  things  at 
home  ;  things  more  essential  or  things  circumstantial :  provided  that 
all  be  done  to  our  profit. 

Now  did  Faithful  begin  to  wonder ;  and  stepping  to  Christian  (for 
he  walked  all  this  while  by  himself)  he  said  to  him,  but  sofdy,  What 
a  brave  companion  have  we  got!  Surely  this  man  will  make  a  very 
excellent  pilgrim. 

At  this,  Christian  modestly  smiled  and  said.  This  man,  with  whom 
you  are  so  taken,  will  beguile  with  this  tongue  of  his  twenty  of  them 
that  know  him  not. 

Fai.    Do  you  know  him  then? 

Chr.    Know  him !  yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Fal.    Pray  what  is  he? 

Chr.  His  name  is  Talkative  ;  he  dwelleth  in  our  town.  I  wonder 
that  you  should  be  a  stranger  to  him  ;  only  I  consider  that  our  town 
is  laroe. 

Fai.    Whose  son  is  he  ?  and  whereabout  doth  he  dwell  ? 

Chr.    He  is  the  son  of  one  Say-well ;  he  dwelt  in  Prating-row; 


the  mystery  of  the  future  ;  on  topics  far  off, 
or  near  home ;  on  everything  imaginable ; 
on  anything  that  anybody  pleased  !  Truly, 
a  very  encyclopaedia  of  spiritual  knowledge 
was  this  man  Talkative  ! 

Christim  modestly  smiled. — That  smile 
indicated  Christian's  better  knowledge  of 
the  man,  his  shrewd  idea  that  Faithful 
had  thus  far  been  deceived,  and  that  ere 
long  he  would  discover  his  mistake  In- 
deed, this  incredulous  smile  of  Christian's 
at  once  produced  an  effect  upon  Faithful, 
who  expresses  a  desire  to  know  more  about 
his  new  companion.  In  this  information, 
subsequently    given    by    Christian,    new 


vigor  is  added  to  the  description  of  the  char- 
acter of  Talkative.  His  family  and  his 
place  of  residence  are  both  in  keeping  with 
his  name  and  nature.  These  associations 
of  the  man  are  well  put  together  by  the 
writer  of  the  Allegory,  making  up  a  com- 
plete picture  of  what  Bunyan  means  to  in- 
dicate under  the  name  of  Talkative. 

This  man  is  no  stranger  to  'he  words, 
"prayer,"  "repentance,"  "faith,"  "new 
birth  "  and  such  hke.  The  words  are  found 
in  his  vocabulary ;  their  sound  is  upon  his 
hps  ;  but  there  is  not  a  particle  of  their  inner 
spirit  or  power  residing  in  his  heart ;  "  he 
knows  but  only  to  ialk  of  them." 


Christian  s  Esti?naie  of  i  cufzative. 


141 


and  l:e  is  known  of  all  that  are  acquainted  with  him  by  the  name  of 
Talkative  in  Prating-row ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is 
but  a  very  sorry  fellow. 

Fai.    Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

Chr.  That  is,  to  them  that  have  not  thorough  acquaintance  with 
him;  for  he  is  best  abroad  ;  near  home  he  is  ugly  enough.  Your  say- 
ing that  he  is  a  pretty  man,  brings  to  my  mind  what  I  have  observed 
in  the  work  of  the  painter,  whose  pictures  show  best  at  a  distance, 
but  very  near  more  unpleasing. 

Fai.    But  I  am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest,  because  you  smiled. 

Chr.  God  forbid  that  I  should  jest  (though  I  smiled)  in  this 
matter,  or  that  I  should  accuse  any  falsely.  I  will  give  you  a  further 
discovery  of  him.  This  man  is  for  any  company,  and  for  any  talk  ; 
as  he  talketh  now  with  you,  so  will  he  talk  when  he  is  on  the  ale- 
bench ;  and  the  more  drink  he  has  in  his  crown,  the  more  of  these 
things  he  hath  in  his  mouth.  Religion  hath  no  place  in  his  heart,  or 
house,  or  conversation  ;  all  he  hath  lieth  in  his  tongue  ;  and  his  religion 
is  to  make  a  noise  therewith. 

Fai.    Say  you  so  ?  then  am  I  in  this  man  greatly  deceived. 

Chr.  Deceived  !  you  may  be  sure  of  it;  remember  the  proverb, 
"They  say,  and  do  not;"  but  "  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word, 
but  in  power"  (Matt.  23:  3;  i  Cor.  4:  20).  He  talketh  of  prayer,  of 
repentance,  of  faith,  and  of  the  new  birth;  but  he  knows  but  only  to 
talk  of  ihem.  I  have  been  in  his  family,  and  have  observed  him  both 
at  homea  nd  abroad  ;  and  I  know  what  I  say  of  him  is  the  truth.  His 
house  is  as  empty  of  religion  as  the  white  of  an  ^^<g  is  of  savor. 
There  is  there  neither  prayer  nor  sign  of  repentance  for  sin  ;  yea,  the 
brute,  in  his  kind,  serves  God  far  better  than  he  (Rom.  2:  23:  24). 
He  is  the  very  stain,  reproach,  and  shame  of  religion,  to  all  that 
know  him  ;  it  can  hardly  have  a  good  word  in  all  that  end  of  the 
town  where  he  dwells,  through  him.  Thus  say  the  common  people 
that  know  him:  "A  saint  abroad,  and  a  devil  at  home."  His  poor 
family  finds  it  so;  he  is  such  a  churl,  such  a  railer  at  and   so  unrea- 


Empty  of  religion. — Whatsoever  may  be 
the  pride  of  his  bearing,  the  boastfulness  of 
his  professions,  or  the  vanity  of  his  words, 
he  is  discovered  in  all  practical  things  to  be 
utterly  devoid  of  the  power  of  religion.  In 
his  real  self,  in  his  secret  heart,  in  his  family 
circle,  or  in  his  social  relationships,  there  is 
neither  religious  motive  nor  practice  of  relig- 


ion. All  the  religion  that  is  in  him  evapor- 
ates in  words ;  and  as  example,  like  water, 
descends,  so  his  children  already  begin  to 
walk  in  the  evil  ways  of  their  father.  Dis- 
honor is  thus  done  to  the  sacred  name  and 
holy  principles  of  true  religion,  through  the 
insincerity  and  hypocrisy  of  those  professors 
who  "  say  and  do  not." 


142 


The  Pilgriins  Progress. 


sonable  with  his  servants,  that  they  neither  know  how  to  do  for  or 
speak  to  him.  Men  that  have  any  deahng  with  him  say,  it  is  better 
to  deal  with  a  Turk  than  with  him,  for  fairer  deaHng  they  shall  have 
at  his  hands.  This  Talkative,  if  it  be  possible,  will  go  beyond  them, 
defraud,  beguile,  and  overreach  them.  Besides,  he  brings  up  his 
sons  to  follow  his  steps;  and  if  he  findeth  in  any  of  them  2i  foolish 
timorousness  (for  so  he  calls  the  first  appearance  of  a  tender  con- 
science), he  calls  them  fools  and  blockheads,  and  by  no  means  will 
employ  them  in  much,  or  speak  to  their  commendations  before  others. 
For  my  part,  I  am  of  opinion  that  he  has  by  his  wicked  life  caused 
many  to  stumble  and  fall,  and  will  be,  if  God  prevents  not,  the  ruin 
of  many  more. 

Fat.  Well,  my  brother,  1  am  bound  to  believe  you  ;  not  only 
because  you  say  you  know  him^  but  also  because  like  a  Christian  ycu 
make  your  reports  of  men.  For  I  cannot  think  that  you  speak  these 
things  of  ill-will,  but  because  it  is  even  so  as  you  say. 

Chr.  Had  I  known  him  no  more  than  you,  I  might  perhaps  have 
thought  of  him  as  at  the  first  you  did;  yea,  had  I  received  this  report 
at  their  hands  only  that  are  enemies  to  religion,  I  should  have  thought 
it  had  been  a  slander  (a  lot  that  often  falls  from  bad  men's  mouths 
upon  good  men's  names  and  professions)  ;  but  all  these  things,  yea, 
and  a  great  many  more  as  bad,  of  my  own  knowledge,  I  can  prove 
him  guilty  of.  Besides,  good  men  are  ashamed  of  him ;  they  can 
neither  call  him  brother  nor  friend;  the  very  naming  of  him  among 
them  makes  them  blush  if  they  know  him. 

Fai.  Well,  I  see  that  saying  and  doing  are  two  things,  and  here- 
after I  shall  better  observe  this  distinction. 

Chr.  They  are  two  things  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse  as  are  the 
soul  and  the  body ;  for,  as  the  body  without  the  soul  is  but  a  dead 
carcass,  so  saying,  if  it  be  alone,  is  but  a  dead  carcass  also.     The  soul 


Foolish  timorousness. — This  is  Talka- 
tive's  more  elegant  synonym  for  "  a  tender 
conscience."  The  advice  of  this  inward 
monitor,  this  law  of  God  "  written  on  our 
hearts,"  is  reduced  to  the  level  of  a  vain 
alarm,  a  groundless  fear.  Surely,  when  men 
have  accustomed  themselves  to  speak  famil- 
iarly of  all  the  dread  realities  of  religion,  and 
with  a  mere  Hp-service  to  utter  words  on 
which  eternity  depends,  conscience  must  be 
seared,  and  lost  to  all  sense  of  the  deep  and 
eternal  meaning  of  the  words  uttered. 


Saying  and  doing  are  two  things. — The 
words  of  the  talker  are  belied  by  his  works. 
Hence,  mere  words  without  works  to  corre- 
spond are  but  a  dead  letter,  a  body  without 
the  soul.  It  is  to  such  a  state  of  spiritual 
death  St.  James  alludes,  when  he  writes, 
"  What  doth  it  profit,  my  brethren,  though  a 
man  say  he  hath  faith,  and  have  not  works  ?  " 
(James  2  :  14).  The  Apostle  here  addresses 
those  who  talk  of  faith,  but  have  notlung 
whereby  to  manifest  it.  And  this  is  the 
great  object  of  the  present  scene  of  the  Al- 


Christian  s  Advice  about  Talkative. 


143 


of  religion  is  the  practical  part:  "Pure  religion  and  undefiled  before 
God  and  the  Father  is  this,  To  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows  in 
their  affliction,  and  to  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world"  (Jas. 
1:2,  3,  22-27).  This  Talkative  is  not  aware  of;  he  thinks  ihdit  hearing 
and  saying-  will  make  a  good  Christian  ;  and  thus  he  deceiveth  his 
own  soul.  Hearing  is  but  as  the  sowing  of  the  seed;  talking  is  not 
sufficient  to  prove  that  fruit  is  indeed  in  the  heart  and  life  ;  and  let 
us  assure  ourselves  that  at  the  day  of  doom  men  shall  be  judged  ac- 
cording to  their  fruits  ;  it  will  not  be  said  then,  Did  you  believe  ?  but, 
Werf^  )OU  doers  or  talkers  only  ?  and  accordingly  shall  they  be  judged 
(Matt.  13:  23,  25,  31-46).  The  end  of  the  world  is  compared  to  our 
harvest;  and  you  know  men  at  harvest  regard  nothing  but  fruit. 
Not  that  anything  can  be  accepted  that  is  not  of  faith  ;  but  I  speak 
th  i  to  show  you  how  insignificant  the  profession  of  Talkative  will  be 
at  that  day. 

Fai.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses,  by  which  he  de- 
scribeth  the  beast  that  is  clean  ;  he  is  such  a  one  thatparteth  the  hoof 
and  cheweth  the  cud  ;  not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only,  or  that  cheweth 
the  cud  only  (Lev,  11;  Deut,  14).  The  hare  cheweth  the  cud,  but  yet 
is  unclean  because  he  parteth  not  the  hoof.  And  this  truly  resem- 
bleth  Talkative;  he  cheweth  the  cud ;  he  seeketh  knowledge;  he 
cheweth  upon  the  word ;  but  he  divideth  not  the  hoof,  he  parteth  not 
with  the  way  of  sinners;  but,  as  the  hare,  retaineth  the  foot  of  a  dog 
or  bear ;  and  therefore  he  is  unclean. 

Chr.  You  have  spoken,  for  aught  I  know,  the  true  gospel  sense 
of  those  texts.  And  I  will  add  another  thing  :  Paul  calleth  some  men, 
yea,  and  those  great  talkers  too,  "sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cym- 
bals ;"  that  is.  as  he  expounds  them  in  another  place,  "things  without 
life-giving  sound"  (i  Cor.  13:  1-3;  14:  7).  "Things  witJTout  life  ;" 
that  is,  without  the  true  faith  and  grace  of  the  gospel ;  and  conse- 


legory,  as  stated  by  Scott  in  his  annotations  : 
"  Talkative  seems  to  have  been  introduced 
on  purpose  that  the  author  might  have  a 
fair  opportunity  of  stating  his  sentiments 
concerning  the  practical  nature  of  evangel- 
ical religion,  to  which  numbers  in  his  day 
were  too  inattentive ;  so  that  this  admired 
alkgory  has  fully  established  the  important 
distinction  between  a  dead  and  a  liviftg 
faith,  on  which  the  whole  controversy  de- 
pends.' 

The  power  of  religion. — Faithful  is  un- 


deceived, and  now  perceives  the  character 
of  his  new  companion.  There  is  a  spirit  of 
rebuke  observable  all  through  Chmstian's 
dealing  with  Talkative.  He  does  not 
speak  with  him  directly,  but  instructs  his 
fellow-pilgrim  how  to  probe  the  man's  heart 
and  conscience,  and  to  expose  his  shallow 
pretence  to  piety,  and  thus  either  to  reform 
him,  or  to  get  rid  of  his  company  altogether. 
Hence  Faithful  is  instructed  to  challenge 
the  loquacious  pilgrim  "  into  some  serious 
discourse    about    the   povjer  of    religion." 


144 


The  Pilgi'ims  Progreii 


FAITHFUL  CONVERSES  WITH  TALKATIVE. 

q^jntly  things  that  shall  never  be  placed  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
among  those  that  are  the  children  of  life,  though  their  sound,  by  their 
talk,  be  as  if  it  were  the  tongue  or  vc'ce  of  an  angel. 

Fat,  Well,  I  was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at  first,  but  am 
as  skk  of  it  now.     What  shall  we  do  to  be  rid  of  him  ? 

Ckr.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you  shall  find 
that  he  will  soon  be  sirk  of  your  company  too,  except  God  shall 
touch  his  heart  and  turn  it. 

Fai.    What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ? 

Chr.  Why,  go  to  him,  and  enter  into  some  serious  discourse 
about   the   power  of  religion  ;  and  ask  him  plainly   (when  he  has 


Talkative  soon  displays  his  ignoranctj  of 
the  principles  of  vital  relij^ion,  and  then  lays 
himsel/open  to  a  series  cf  personal  inquiries 
as  to  tiie  possession  of  religion  in  his  owii 
heart;  whereupon,  being  sore  pressed  b/ 
the  faiihful  questions  of  the  Pilgrim,  Talk- 
ative loses  temper,  and  ultimately  separate^ 


himself  from  company  so  uncongenial  to  his 
own  spirit  and  nature. 

The  Question. — A  most  important  and 
essential  inquiry  is  that  now  proposed  by 
Faithful — "  How  doth  the  saving  grace  of 
God  discover  itself  when  it  is  in  the  heart  of 
u.Ai.  ?"     Talkative  is  somewhat  puzzled, 


-»     I^ALKATIVE.      " 


ATHEIST, 


Faithfid  reasotis  with   Talkative. 


145 


approved  of  it,  for  that  he  will)  whether  this  thing  be  set  up  in  his 
heart,  house,  or  conversation. 

Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again,  and  said  to  Talkative, 
Come,  what  cheer?  how  is  it  now? 

Talk.  Thank  you,  well ;  I  thought  we  should  have  had  a  great 
deal  of  talk  by  this  time. 

Fai.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now ;  and  since  you  left 
it  with  me  to  state  the  question,  let  it  be  this  :  How  doth  the  saving 
grace  of  God  discover  itself  when  it  is  in  the  heart  of  man  ? 

Talk.  I  perceive,  then,  that  our  talk  must  be  about  the  poiver 
of  things.  Well,  it  is  a  very  good  question,  and  I  shall  be  willing  to 
answer  you,  and  take  my  answer  in  brief  thus  :  First,  where  the 
grace  of  God  is  in  the  heart,  it  causeth  there  a  great  outcry  against 
sin.     Secondly 

Fal  Nay,  hold,  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once ;  I  think  you 
should  rather  say.  It  shows  itself  by  inclining  the  soul  to  abhor 
°ts  sin. 

Talk.  Why,  what  difference  is  there  between  crying  out  against, 
and  abhorring  of,  sin  ? 

Fal  Oh  !  a  great  deal,  A  man  may  cry  out  against  sin,  of 
policy,  but  he  cannot  abhor  it  but  by  virtue  of  a  godly  andpathy 
against  it.  I  have  heard  many  cry  out  against  sin  in  the  pulpit,  who 
yet  can  abide  it  well  enough  in  the  heart,  house,  and  conversation. 
Joseph's  mistress  cried  out  with  a  loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  been 
very  holy;  but  she  would  willingly,  notwithstanding  that,  have  com- 
mitted uncleanness  with  him  (Gen.  39:  11-15).  Some  cry  out 
against  sin,  even  as  the  mother  cries  out  against  her  child  in  her  lap, 
when  she  calleth  it  slut  and  naughty  girl,  and  then  falls  to  hugging 
and  kissino-  it. 

0 

Talk.    You  lie  at  the  catch,  I  perceive. 


but  he  has  recourse  to  words  for  all  that, 
and  proceeds  to  his  divisions  and  subdi- 
visions, until  stayed  in  his  flood  of  words  by 
Faithful,  who  will  examine  each  point  in 
succession. 

A  great  outcry  against  sin. — This  is  the 
first  of  the  marks  of  saving  grace,  as  alleged 
by  Talkative.  The  sequel  of  the  conver- 
sation will  show  how  skilful  was  Bunyan, 
in  thus  interweaving  in  the  Allegory  so 
much  of  true  doctrine  as  a  corrective  of  that 
which  is  false.  Here  he  shovrs  that  to  talk 
10 


against  sin  is  not  the  same  as  to  depart  from 
sin. 

Great  knowledge,  etc. — Knowledge  is  not 
salvation ;  but,  if  trusted  to  and  rested  in,  it 
may  be  our  condemnation.  Knowledge  of 
the  Master's  will  is  that  thing  that  makes 
the  difference  between  the  "  few  stripes  " 
and  the  "  many  stripes,"  according  as  it 
leads,  or  does  not  lead,  to  the  doing  of  the 
deeds  of  duty. 

The  question  ansivcred. — Talkative 
has  given  unsatisfactory  and  insufficient  an- 


146  The  Pilgri77is  Progress. 

Fai,  No,  not  I ;  I  am  only  for  setting  things  right.  But  what 
is  the  second  thing  whereby  you  would  prove  a  discovery  of  the 
work  of  grace  in  the  heart  ? 

Talk.    Great  knowledge  of  gospel  mysteries. 

Fai,  This  sign  should  have  been  first ;  but,  first  or  last,  it  is 
also  false  ;  for  knowledge,  great  knowledge,  may  be  obtained  in  the 
mysteries  of  the  gospel,  and  yet  no  work  of  grace  in  the  soul 
(i  Cor.  13).  Yea,  if  a  man  have  all  knowledge  he  may  yet  be 
nothing,  and  so  consequently  be  no  child  of  God.  When  Christ 
said,  "Do  you  know  all  these  things?"  and  the  disciples  had 
answered.  Yes;  he  added,  "Blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do  them."  He  doth 
not  lay  the  blessing  in  the  knoiuing  of  them,  but  in  the  doing  of  them. 
For  there  is  a  knowledge  that  is  not  attended  with  doing:  "he  that 
knoweth  his  master's  will  and  doeth  it  not."  A  man  may  know  like 
an  angel,  and  yet  be  no  Christian  ;  therefore  your  sign  is  not  true. 
Indeed,  to  knmu  is  a  thing  that  pleaseth  talkers  and  boasters;  but  to 
do  is  that  which  pleaseth  God.  Not  that  the  heart  can  be  good 
without  knowledge ;  for  without  that  the  heart  is  naught.  There  is 
therefore  knowledge  and  knowledge — knowledge  that  resteth  in  the 
bare  speculation  of  things,  and  knowledge  that  is  accompanied 
with  the  grace  of  faith  and  love,  which  puts  a  man  upon  doing  even 
the  will  of  God  from  the  heart;  the  first  of  these  will  serve  the 
talker,  but  without  the  other  the  true  Christian  is  not  content: 
"  Give  me  understanding,  and  I  shall  keep  thy  law  ;  yea,  I  shall 
observe  it  with  my  whole  heart"   (Ps.  1 19  :    34). 

Talk.    You  lie  at  the  catch  again  ;   this  is  not  for  edification, 

Fal  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign  how  this  work 
of  grace  discovereth  itself  where  it  is. 

Talk,    Not  I,  for  I  see  we  shall  not  aofree. 

Fal    Well,  if  you  will  not,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  do  it? 

Talk,    You  may  use  your  liberty. 


swers  to  the  searching  inquiry  of  Faithful 
respecting  the  discovery  of  saving  grace  in 
the  soul.     He  has  offered  a  "firstly"  and  a 


The  answer  is  two-fold  :  saving  grace,  in 
the  root  of  faith,  must  be  discovered  to  him 
that  hath  it ;    and,  in  the  fruit  of  faith,  it 


"secondly,"  and  neither  of  these  is  correct    I    must  be  manifested  to  others. 

He  is  now  challenged  still  further  to  define   j        The  discovery  of  the  gift  of  grace  to  one's 

the   marks   and    tokens  of  this    indwelling  i    own  conscience   is  essential  to  a   Christian 


grace.  But  he  frets  over  his  task,  offended 
at  the  plain  speech  of  Faithful,  and  de- 
clines to  render  any  further  answer  to  his 
questions.      Whereupon    Faithful   under- 


man's  peace  and  comfort.  It  is  worthy  of 
note,  that  the  process  of  this  dis^'overy,  as 
here  described,  follows  the  track  of  the  pil- 
grimage,  as  already  traversed  by  our    Pil- 


takes  to  reply  to  his  own  inquiry,  |   grim.     Here,  Faithful  is  made  to  give  ex- 


Faithficl  reasons  with   Talkative. 


147 


Fai.  a  work  of  grace  in  the  soul  discovereth  itself,  either  to 
him  that  hatli  it,  or  to  standers-by.  To  him  that  hath  it,  thus :  it 
gives  him  conviction  of  sin,  especially  of  the  defilement  of  his 
nature,  and  the  sin  of  unbelief,  for  the  sake  of  which  he  is  sure  to 
be  damned,  if  he  findeth  not  mercy  at  God's  hand  by  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ  (Ps.  38:  18;  Mark  16:  16;  John  16:  8,  9 ;  Acts  4:  12; 
Rom.  7 :  24).  This  sight  and  sense  of  things  worketh  in  him 
sorrow  and  shame  for  sin;  he  findeth,  moreover,  revealed  in  him  the 
Saviour  of  the  world,  and  the  absolute  necessity  of  closing  with  him 
for  life;  at  the  which  he  findeth  hunaerinofs  and  thirstinas  after  him; 
to  which  hungerings,  etc.,  the  promise  is  made  (Jer.  31  :  19;  Matt 
5:6;  Gal.  I  :  15,  16;  Rev.  21  :  6).  Now,  according  to  the  strength 
or  weakness  of  his  faith  in  his  Saviour,  so  is  his  joy  and  peace,  so 
is  his  love  to  holiness,  so  are  his  desires  to  know  him  more,  and  also 
to  serve  him  in  this  world.  But  though,  I  say,  it  discovereth  itself 
thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but  seldom  that  he  is  able  to  conclude  that 
this  is  a  work  of  grace  ;  because  his  corruptions  now,  and  his 
abused  reason,  make  his  mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter;  therefore 
in  him  that  hath  this  work  there  is  required  a  very  sound  judgment 
before  he  can  with  steadiness  conclude  that  this  is  a  work  of  grace. 

To  others  it  is  thus  discovered :  First,  by  an  experimental 
confession  of  his  faith  in  Christ.  Secondly,  by  a  life  answerable  to 
that  confession ;  to  wit,  a  life  of  holiness  ;  heart-holiness,  family- 
holiness  (if  he  hath  a  family),  and  by  conversation-holiness  in  the 
world,  which  in  the  general  teacheth  him  inwardly  to  abhor  his  sin, 
and  himself  for  that,  in  secret;  to  suppress  it  in  his  family,  and  to 
promote  holiness  in  the  world;  not  by  talk  only,  as  a  hypocrite  or 
talkative  person  may  do,  but  by  a  practical  subjection,  in  faith  and 
love,  to  the  power  of  the  word  (Job  42:  5,  6;  Ps.  50:  23;  Ezek. 
20:    43;  Matt.  5 :    8;  John  14:   15;  Rom.  10:    9,  10;    Phil,  i:  27). 


pression  to  Christian's  own  actual  experi- 
ence:  (i)  Conviction  of  sin,  with  the  heavy 
consciousness  of  impending  wrath  ;  (2)  sor- 
row and  shame,  confusion  of  spirit,  and 
hasty  flight ;  (3)  the  revelation  of  Christ 
the  Crucified  One,  as  the  Saviour ;  (4)  the 
necessity  of  closing  with  the  salvation  that 
is  now  offered  in  Christ;  (5)  the  new  nature 
with  new  appetites,  hungering  and  thirsting 
after  righteousness,  which  appetites  are  sat- 
isfied in  communion  with  Jesus,  and  with 
bis  people  ;  (6)  in  proportion  to  faith  is  the 


measure  of  joy  or  sorrow,  strength  or  weak- 
ness— as  in  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  and 
in  the  dark  transit  through  the  Shadow  of 
Death.  And  with  all  these  progressive  signs 
and  symptoms  of  saving  grace,  it  needs  a 
quickened  power  of  spiritual  vision  and  dis- 
cernment, for  these  things  are  '  spiritually 
discerned"  (i  Cor.  2:  14).  All  these  inward 
evidences,  thus  discovered  and  made  known, 
constitute  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  with  our 
spirit,  that  we  are  the  children  of  God  (Rom. 
8:   16). 


X4a 


Talkative  leaves  the  Pilgrims. 


149 


And  now,  Sir,  as  to  this  brief  description  of  the  work  of  grace,  and 
also  the  discovery  of  it,  if  you  have  aught  to  object,  object ;  if  not. 
then  give  me  leave  to  propound  to  you  a  second  question. 

Talk.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to  hear;  let  me 
therefore  have  your  second  question. 

Fai.  It  is  this :  Do  you  experience  this  first  part  of  this 
description  of  it?  and  doth  your  life  and  conversation  testify  the 
same?  or  standeth  your  religion  "in  word  or  in  tongue,"  and  not 
"in  deed  and  truth?"  Pray,  if  you  incline  to  answer  me  in  this,  say 
no  more  than  you  know  the  God  above  will  say  Amen  to;  and  also 
nothing  but  what  your  conscience  can  justify  you  in  ;  "for  not  he  that 
commendeth  himself  is  approved,  but  whom  the  Lord  commendeth." 
Besides,  to  say  I  am  thus,  when  my  conversation  and  all  my  neigh- 
bors tell  me  I  lie,  is  great  wickedness. 

Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush;  but,  recovering  himself, 
thus  he  replied  :  You  come  now  to  experience,  to  conscience,  and 
God;  and  to  appeal  to  him  for  justification  of  what  is  spoken.  This 
kind  of  discourse  I  did  not  expect ;  nor  am  1  disposed  to  give  an 
answer  to  such  questions  ;  because  I  count  not  myself  bound 
thereto,  unless  you  take  upon  you  to  be  a  catccJiiser ;  and,  though 
you  should  do  so,  yet  I  may  refuse  to  make  you  my  judge.  But  I 
pray,  will  you  tell  me  why  you  ask  me  such  questions  ? 

Fai.  Because  I  saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  because  I  knew 
not  that  you  had  aught  else  but  notion.  Besides,  to  tell  you  all  the 
truth,  I  have  heard  of  you  that  you  are  a  man  whose  religion  lies  in 
talk,  and  that  your  conversation  gives  this  your  mouth-profession 
the  lie.  They  say  you  are  a  spot  among  Christians  ;  and  that 
religion  fareth  the  worse  for  your  ungodly  conversation  ;  that  some 
already  have  stumbled  at  your  wicked  ways,  and  that  more  are  in 


Do  you  experience  this  ?  —  Do  you  f 
Faithful  has,  indeed,  dispatched  the  barbed 
arrow  straight  into  the  heart  of  Talkative. 
The  answer  to  such  a  soul-searching  ques- 
tion must  be  given  in  the  tribunal  of  con- 
science, and  in  the  light  of  God's  counte- 
nance. 

Talkative  began  to  blush. — This  looks 
hopeful ;  but  it  proves  too  transient  an  effect 
to  justify  the  existence  of  any  abiding  prin- 
ciple of  good.  Talkative  hardens  into 
strong  resistance,  chafes  over  his  discomfit- 
ure, calls  his  faithful  monitor  by  opprobrious 
epithets,  and  provokes  a  still  heavier  cen- 


sure, and  a  yet  more  personal  reproof.  "  A 
fool's  lips  enter  into  contention,  and  his 
mouth  calleth  for  strokes  "  (Prov.  i8  :  6). 

It  is  not  every  one  that  could  bear  this 
faithful  dealing,  and  this  outspoken  speech. 
Men  are  not  prepared  to  hear  these  wither- 
ing admonitions ;  nor  are  they  willing  to 
acknowledge  the  likeness  when  depicted  by 
the  light  of  old  Tell-truth.  Talkative  is 
not  able  to  endure  the  scathing  speech  of 
Faithful,  and,  accordingly,  he  bids  him 
aHieu. 

Rebuked,  reproved,  but  not  reformed,  this 
loquacious  professor  has    departed    on    his 


IbO  The  PilgrifHS  Progress. 

danger  of  being  destroyed  thereby;  your  religion  and  an  alehouse, 
and  covetousness,  and  uncleanness,  and  swearing,  and  lying,  and 
vain  company-keeping,  etc.,  will  stand  together.  The  proverb  is 
true  of  you  which  is  said  of  a  whore,  to  wit,  that  "she  is  a  shame 
to  all  women  :"  so  you  are  a  shame  to  all  professors. 

Talk.  Since  you  are  ready  to  take  up  reports,  and  to  judge  so 
rashly  as  you  do,  I  cannot  but  conclude  you  are  some  peevish  or 
melancholy  man,  not  fit  to  be  discoursed  with  ;  and  so,  adieu  ! 

Then  came  up  Christian,  and  said  to  his  brother,  I  told  you  how 
it  would  happen  ;  your  words  and  his  lusts  could  not  agree.  He  had 
rather  leave  your  company  than  reform  his  life ;  but  he  is  gone,  as  I 
said ;  let  him  go,  the  loss  is  no  man's  but  his  own  ;  he  has  saved  us 
the  trouble  of  going  from  him  ;  for,  he  continuing  (as  I  suppose  he 
will  do)  as  he  is,  he  would  have  been  but  a  blot  in  our  company; 
besides,  the  aposde  says,  "From  such  withdraw  thyself." 

Fai.  But  I  am  glad  we  had  this  little  discourse  with  him  ;  it  may 
happen  that  he  will  think  of  it  again  ;  however,  I  have  dealt  plainly 
with  him,  and  so  am  clear  of  his  blood  if  he  perisheth. 

Chr.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  you  did  ;  there  is 
but  little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with  men  nowadays,  and  that  makes 
religion  to  sdnk  in  the  nostrils  of  many  as  it  doth ;  for  they  are  these 
talkative  fools,  whose  religion  is  only  in  words,  and  who  are  debauched 
and  vain  in  their  conversation,  that  being  so  much  admitted  into  the 
fellowship  of  the  godly,  do  puzzle  the  world,  blemish  Christianity,  and 
grieve  the  sincere.  I  wish  that  all  men  would  deal  with  such  as  you 
have  done  ;  then  should  they  be  either  made  more  comfortable  to 
religion,  or  the  company  of  saints  would  be  too  hot  for  them. 

How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes ! 
How  bravely  doth  he  speak  !     How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him  !     But  so  soon 
As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 
That's  past  the  full,  into  the  wane  he  goes  ; 
And  so  will  all  but  he  that  heart-work  knows. 

Thus  they  went  on  talking  of  what  they  had  seen  on  the  way,  and 
so  made  that  way  easy  which  would  otherwise  no  doubt  have  been 
tedious  to  them  ;  for  now  they  went  through  a  wilderness. 


.vay.  Occasion  is  then  taken  by  the  two 
Pilgrims  (for  Christian  has  once  more  re- 
joined his  fellow)  to  speak  together  upon 
this   class  of  men,  who  assume   the   outer 


garb  and  guise  of  religion,  and  know  noth- 
ing of  its  inner  power.  These  are  the  men 
that  do  harm  to  religion  ;  they  encourage 
good  hopes  only  to  disappoint 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


Vanity  Fair. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  left  our  Pilgrims  traversing  "  a  wilderness."  There, 
though  lonely,  they  would  be  comparatively  safe,  strengthening  each  other  in  Christian 
communion,  and  supporting  each  other  in  Christian  faith  and  hope.  But  they  are  drawing 
near  to  an  inhabited  city — a  city  proverbial  for  its  vanity,  gayety,  profanity  and  general  for- 
getfulness  of  God,  and  disregard  to  his  Word  and  Commandments.  The  name  of  this  town 
is  Vanity  ;  and  through  it  our  Pilgrims  are  introduced  to  the  scenes  of  Vanity  Fair.  Before 
committing  them  to  these  perils,  a  watchful  Providence  provides  for  them  a  timely  admoni- 
tion at  the  hands  of  Evangelist. 

OW  when  they  were  got  almost  quite  out  of  this  wilder- 
ness, Faithful  chanced  to  cast  his  eye  back,  and  espied 
one    coming  after  them,  and  he    knew  him.      Oh !  said 

Faithful  to  his  brother,  Who  comes  yonder  ? 

Then  Christian  looked,  and  said.  It  is  my  good  friend 
Evangelist.  Aye,  and  my  good  friend,  too,  said  Faithful,  for  it  was  he 
that  set  me  the  way  to  the  gate.  Now  was  Evangelist  come  up  unto 
them,  and  thus  saluted  them : 

Peace  be  with  you,  dearly  beloved ;  and  peace  be  to  your 
helpers  (i  Chron.  12:  18). 

Chr.  Welcome,  welcome,  my  good  Evangelist ;  the  sight  of  thy 
countenance  brings  to  my  remembrance  thy  ancient  kindness  and 
unwearied  laboring  for  my  eternal  good. 

And  a  thousand  times  welcome,  said  good  Faithful,  thy  com- 
pany, O  sweet  Evangelist,  how  desirable  is  it  to  us  poor  pilgrims ! 

Then  said  Evangelist,  How  hath  it  fared  with  you,  my  friends, 
since  the  time  of  our  last  parting?  what  have  you  met  with,  and  how 
have  you  behaved  yourselves  ? 


My  good  friend  Evangelist. — The  two 
Pilgrims  agree  in  owning  Evangelist  as 
their  "good  friend."  He  had  discharged 
his  kindly  office  in  behalf  of  both  ;  and  it 
was  through  his  advice  and  ministry  that 
Faithful,  as  well  as  Christian,  had  been 
directed  from  the  City  of  Destruction  to  the 
Wicket-gate.     Hence   their  mutual   saluta- 


tions and  friendly  greetings.  Evangelist 
is  glad  once  more  to  meet  those  whose  feet 
he  has  guided  into  the  way  of  peace;  and 
the  Pilgrims  are  glad  once  more  to  hear  the 
welcome  voice,  and  to  enjoy  the  profitable 
intercourse  of  one  who  has  hitherto  proved 
himself  so  good  a  friend  and  counsellor. 
This  scene  describes  the  heartfelt  anxiety 

(151) 


152 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL  ENTER  THE  TOWN  OF  VANITY. 

Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things  that  had  hap- 
pened to  them  in  the  way ;  and  how,  and  with  what  difficulty,  they 
had  arrived  to  that  place. 

Right  glad  am  I,  said  Evangelist,  not  that  you  met  with  trials, 
but  that  you  have  been  victors,  and  for  that  you  have,  notwithstand- 
ing many  weaknesses,  continued  in  the  way  to  this  very  day.  I  say 
right  glad  am  I  of  this  thing,  and  that  for  mine  own  sake  and  yours. 


and  longing  of  the  true  minister  respecting 
ti.e  progress  and  attainments  of  those  who, 
through  his  ministry,  have  been  brought  to 
Christ.  It  also  describes  the  affectionate  at- 
tachment which  binds  him  to  the  hearts  of 
those  who  are  his  children  in  the  Gospel. 
Thus  the  beloved  disciple  speaks:  "  I  have 
no  greater  joy  than  to  hear  that  my  children 
walk  in  truth  "  (3  John  4). 

How  hath  it  fared  with  you  ? — These  oc- 


casional reunions  of  minister  and  people 
are  designed  for  the  purpose  of  review  and 
retrospect,  as  well  as  of  prospect  and  en- 
couragement of  hope.  Intervals  of  time 
and  absence  sometimes  leave  large  gaps  in 
spiritual  experience.  In  other  cases,  the  in- 
terval is  found  to  have  been  well  filled  up 
with  progress  in  knowledge  and  experience. 
So  it  was  with  Christian  and  Faithful. 
Their  retrospect  was    one   of  thankfulness 


Evangelist^  s  Parting  Counsel. 


153 


I  have  sowed  and  you  have  reaped  ;  and  the  day  is  coming  when 
"  bodi  he  diat  sowed  and  they  that  reaped  shall  rejoice  together" 
(John  4  :  36)  ;  that  is,  if  you  hold  out ;  "  for  in  due  time  ye  shall  reap 
if  ye  faint  not"  (Gal.  6:9).  The  crown  is  before  you,  and  it  is  an 
incorrupdble  one;  "so  run  that  you  may  obtain"  it.  Some  there 
be  that  set  out  for  this  crown,  and  after  they  have  gone  far  for  it, 
another  comes  in  and  takes  it  from  them  ;  "  hold  fast,  therefore,  that 
you  have,  that  no  man  take  your  crown"  (Cor.  9:  24-27;  Rev.  3: 
11).  You  are  not  yet  out  of  the  gunshot  of  the  devil ;  "  you  have 
not  resisted  unto  blood,  striving  against  sin;"  let  the  kingdom  be 
always  before  you,  and  believe  steadfasdy  concerning  things  that  are 
invisible.  Let  nothing  that  is  on  this  side  of  the  other  world  get 
within  you  ;  and,  above  all,  look  well  to  your  own  hearts  and  to  the 
lusts  thereof,  for  they  are  "  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked;"  set  your  faces  like  a  flint;  you  have  all  power  in  heaven 
and  earth  on  your  side. 

Then  Christian  thanked  him  for  his  exhortation  ;  but  told  him 
withal,  that  they  would  have  him  speak  further  to  them  for  their 
help  the  rest  of  the  way  ;  and  the  rather  for  that  they  well  knew 
that  he  was  a  prophet,  and  could  tell  them  things  that  might  happen 
unto  them,  and  also  how  they  might  resist  and  overcome  them.  To 
which  request  Faithful  also  consented.  So  Evangelist  began  as 
folio weth  : 

My  sons,  you  have  heard  in  the  words  of  the  truth  of  the  gos- 
pel, "that  you  must  through  great  tribulations  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  ;"  and  again,  that  "in  every  city  bonds  and  afflic- 
tions abide  you;  "  and  therefore  you  cannot  expect  that  you  should 
go  long  on  your  pilgrimage  without  them,  in  some  sort  or  other. 
You  have  found  something  of  the  truth  of  these  tesdmonies  upon 
you  already,  and  more  will  immediately  follow ;  for  now,  as  you  see, 
you  are  almost  out  of  this  wilderness,  and  therefore  you  will  soon 


and  praise  to  that  God  who  had  led  them  all 
the  way,  and  filled  their  cup  so  full  with  his 
loving-kindness  and  tender  mercies. 

Right  glad  am  I.  —Evangelist  is  glad, 
as  he  afterward  testifies,  for  two  reasons  — 
"  for  my  own  sake  and  yours."  Every  min- 
ister has  an  interest  in  the  results  of  the 
work  of  his  ministry.  It  is  possible  for  the 
spiritual  builders  to  build  up,  not  only 
"gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones,"  but 
also    "  wood,    hay,    and    stubble"   (i    Cor. 


3  :   12).     The  result  will  not  be  known  here, 
but  "  the  day  shall  declare  it." 

There  is  something  touching,  something 
thrilling,  something  of  a  melancholy  inter- 
est, in  this  conversation  between  Evange- 
list and  the  Pilgrims.  It  reads  very  much 
Uke  a  parting  address,  in  which  the  faithful 
minister  commits  his  children  to  the  future, 
and  commends  them  to  the  care  of  the 
faithful  Creator.  A  presentiment  is  awak- 
ened in  our  minds — aforeaugury  of  "bonds 


154 


The  Pilorlm  s  Progress. 


come  into  a  town  that  you  will  by-and-by  see  before  you  ;  and  in 
that  town  you  will  be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who  will  strain  hard 
but  they  will  kill  you  ;  and  be  you  sure  that  one  or  both  of  you  must 
seal  the  testimony,  which  you  hold,  with  blood;  but  "be  ye  faithful 
unto  death,  and  the  King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life."  He  that 
shall  die  there,  although  his  death  will  be  unnatural,  and  his  pain 
perhaps  great,  he  will  yet  have  the  better  of  his  fellow,  not  only 
because  he  will  be  arrived  at  the  Celestial  City  soonest,  but  be- 
cause he  will  escape  many  miseries  that  the  other  will  meet  with 
in  the  rest  of  his  journey.  But  when  you  are  come  to  the  town 
and  shall  find  fulfilled  what  I  have  here  related,  then  remember 
your  friend,  and  quit  yourselves  like  men;  and  "commit  the  keep- 
ing of  your  souls  to  God,  as  unto  a  faithful  Creator." 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that,  when  they  were  got  out  of  the 
wilderness, they  presently  saw  a  town  before  them  ;  the  name  of  that 
town  is  Vanity ;  and  at  the  town  there  is  a  fair  kept,  called  Vanity 
Fair  ;  it  is  kept  all  the  year  long ;  it  beareth  the  name  of  Vanity  Fair, 
because  the  town  where  it  is  kept  is  "lighter  than  vanity,"  and  also 
because  all  that  is  there  sold,  or  that  cometh  thither,  is  vanity.  As  is 
the  saying  of  the  wise,  "All  that  cometh  is  vanity "  (Eccles.  i  :  2, 
1412:   11,17;    11:8;  Isaiah  40 :   17). 

The  fair  is  no  new-erected  business,  but  a  thing  of  ancient  stand- 
ing ;  I  will  show  you  the  original  of  it.  Almost  five  thousand  years 
agone  there  were  pilgrims  walking  to  the  Celestial  City,  as  these  two 
honest  persons  are,  and  Beelzebub,  Apollyon  and  Legion,  with  their 
companions,  perceiving,  by  the  path  that  the  pilgrims  made,  that 
their  way  to  the  city  lay  through  this  town  of  Vanity,  they  contrived 
here  to  set  up  a  fair;  a  fair  wherein  should  be  sold  all  sorts  of  vanity, 
and  that  it  should  last  all  the  year  long ;  therefore  at  this  fair  are  all 


and  afflictions  ;"  and  with  a  sad  and  uncer- 
tain spirit  we  follow  the  footsteps  of  Chris- 
tian and  Faithful,  as,  departing  from  the 
farewell  of  Evangelist,  they  contemplate 
in  the  distance  the  city  of  which  they  had 
been  forewarned. 

"  Methought  I  saw  a  city  dazzling  bright, 
Where  all  were  in  pursuit  of  prospects  fair, 

Of  wealth  and  fame  and  many  a  proud  delight, 
That  promised  happiness,  but  not  a  care. 

Vanity  Fair. — This  inimitable  sketch  of 
a  world  of  pomp  and  pleasure,  of  sin  and 
sorrow,  of  vanity  of  vanities,  has  ever  been 
regarded  as  one  of  the  chiefest  and  choicest 


scenes  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  It  de- 
scribes the  emptiness  of  this  vain  world  ;  the 
consistency  of  the  Christian's  walk  ;  the  esti- 
mate in  which  the  Christian  can  afford  to  hold 
its  best  and  choicest  gifts  and  glories.  But 
while  men  spend  and  are  spent  for  the  pal- 
try and  passing  enjoyments  of  the  world,  the 
child  of  God  is  journeying  to  the  better  land, 
sitting  loose  to  the  things  of  time  and  sense, 
and  looking  only  to  the  recompense  of  the 
great  reward — -the  crown  that  is  not  of 
earthly  glory,  but  "  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away." 

Se-'ieral  rows  and  streets. — Bunyan   in- 


Vanity  Fair. 


155 


such  merchandise  sold  as  houses,  lands,  trades,  places,  honors,  pre- 
ferments, titles,  countries,  kingdoms,  lusts,  pleasures ;  and  delights 
of  all  sorts,  as  whores,  bawds,  wives,  husbands,  children,  masters, 
servants,  lives,  blood,  bodies,  souls,  silver,gold,  pearls,  precious  stones, 
and  what  not.  And,  moreover,  at  this  fair  there  are  at  all  times  to  be 
seen  jugglings,  cheats,  games,  plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves  and  rogues, 
and  that  of  every  kind.  Here  are  to  be  seen  too,  and  that  for 
nothing,  thefts,  murders,  adulteries,  false-swearers,  and  that  of  a 
blood-red  color. 

And  as  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment  there  are  several  rows  and 
streets  under  their  proper  names,  where  such  and  such  wares  are 
vended,  so  here  likewise  you  have  the  proper  places,  rows,  streets 
(viz.,  countries  and  kingdom.s),  where  the  wares  of  this  fair  are  soonest 
to  be  found.  Here  is  the  Britain  Row,  the  French  Row,  the  Italian 
Row,  the  Spanish  Row,  the  German  Row,  where  several  sorts  of 
vanities  are  to  be  sold.  But,  as  in  other  fairs,  some  one  commodity  is 
as  the  chief  of  all  the  fair,  so  the  ware  of  Rome  and  her  merchandise 
are  greatly  promoted  in  this  fair;  only  our  English  nation  and  some 
others  have  taken  a  dislike  thereat. 

Now,  as  I  said,  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lies  just  through  this 
town  where  this  lusty  fair  is  kept;  and  he  that  will  go  to  the  city,  and 
yet  not  go  through  this  town,  "  must  needs  go  out  of  the  world."  The 
Prince  of  princes  himself,  when  here,  went  through  this  town  to  his 
own  country,  and  that  upon  a  fair-day  too  ;  yea,  and  as  I  think,  it  was 
Beelzebub,  the  chief  lord  of  this  fair,  that  invited  him  to  buy  of  his 
vanities;  yea,  would  have  made  him  Lord  of  the  fair,  \vould  he  but 
have  done  him  reverence  as  he  went  through  the  town.     Yea,  because 


terprets  these  to  mean  "  countries  and 
kingdoms."  Seeing  that  the  world  is  the 
Fair,  the  divisions  and  subdivisions  of  the 
world  would  be  represented  by  the  streets 
and  departments  of  the  Fair.  Hence  Brit- 
ain Row,  French  Row,  and  such  like.  And 
as  each  country  and  kingdom  has  its  own 
peculiar  vanities,  and  its  own  method  of 
promoting  the  spirit  of  worldliness,  so  each 
\i  represented  here  as  occupying  a  section 
of  the  fair-ground,  and  contributing  its  mer- 
chandise to  "vanity  of  vanities." 

The  ware  of  Rome. — This  is  specially 
mentioned,  owing  to  the  influence  the  Church 
of  Rome  had  wielded  in  this  country  in  for- 
vner  days,  but  which  had  so  greatly  dimin- 


ished in  Bunyan's  time.  "  The  blood  and 
bones  and  ashes  of  men,"  which  the  Pil- 
grim had  observed  lying  all  around  the  cave 
of  Giant  Pope,  would,  perhaps,  best  represent 
the  reason  of  the  decline  and  discourage- 
ment  of  Rome's  wares  in  England  at  the 
period  when  the  AUegorv  was  written 

The  way  to  the  Celestial  City.—KW  Pil- 
grims must  pass  by  this  way.  This  is  part 
of  their  probation,  while  they  "  seek  a  better 
country,  that  is,  an  heavenly."  Here  must 
their  choice  be  made,  here  the  profession  of 
their  faith,  and  their  resistance  to  the-'empt- 
ing  offers  of  the  world.  This  is  the  place  in 
which  they  are  enjoined  to  "walk  by  faith, 
and  not  by  sight."     And,  as  men  keep  eter- 


156 


TIij  Pilgrims  in   Vanity  Fair. 


157 


he  was  such  a  person  of  honor,  Beelzebub  had  him  from  street  to 
street,  and  showed  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a  little  time, 
that  he  might,  if  possible,  allure  that  Blessed  One  to  cheapen  and  buy 
some  of  his  vanities.  But  he  had  no  mind  to  the  merchandise,  and 
therefore  left  the  town  without  laying  out  as  much  as  one  farthing 
upon  these  vanities  (Matt.  4:  8,  9  ;  Luke  4:  ^-']\.  This  fair,  there- 
fore, is,  an  ancient  thing,  of  long  standing,  and  a  very  great  fair. 

Now  these  pilgrims,  as  I  said,  must  needs  go  through  this  fair 
Well,  so  they  did;  but,  behold,  even  as  they  entered  into  the  fair,  all 
the  people  in  the  fair  were  moved,  and  the  town  itself,  as  it  were,  in  a 
hubbub  about  them;  and  that  for  several  reasons:  for,  first,  the 
pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind  of  raiment  as  was  diverse  from 
the  raiment  of  any  that  traded  in  that  fair.  The  people  therefore  of 
llie  fair  made  a  great  gazing  upon  them  ;  some  said  they  were  fools, 
some  they  were  bedlams,  and  some  they  were  outlandish  men  (i  Cor, 
4:  9,  10),  Secondly,  and  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel,  so  they 
did  likewise  at  their  speech  ;  for  few  could  understand  what  they  said  : 
they  naturally  spoke  the  language  of  Canaan  ;  but  they  that  kept  die 
fair  were  the  men  of  this  world ;  so  that  from  one  end  of  the  fair  to 
the  other  they  seemed  barbarians  each  to  the  other.  Thirdly,  but 
that  which  did  not  a  little  amuse  the  merchandisers  was,  that  these 
pilgrims  set  very  light  by  all  their  wares ;  they  cared  not  so  much  as 
to  look  upon  them  ;  and,  if  they  called  upon  them  to  buy,  they  would 
put  their  fingers  in  their  ears,  and  cry,  "Turn  away  mine  eyes  from 
beholding  vanity  !"  (Ps.  119:  ■^'])  and  look  upwards,  signifying  that 
their  trade  and  traffic  was  in  heaven  (Phil,  3  :  20,  21). 


nity  in  view  amid  the  distractions  of  time, 
and  desire  the  eternal  weight  of  glory  in 
preference  to  the  phantoms  of  vanity,  so 
shall  they  be  made  possessors  of  eternal 
things  by  and-by.  But  this  is  for  the  trial  of 
their  faith. 

Jesus  once  walked  those  streets,  was 
tempted  by  those  same  vanities,  had  the 
offer  of  all  the  earth  and  all  its  glory  cast 
before  his  feet ;  and  yet  he,  our  Brother  and 
our  Friend,  passed  in  sinless  purity  through 
all  these  temptations,  "leaving  us  an  exam- 
ple, that  we  should  follow  his  steps"  (i  Pet. 
2:  21).  If,  then,  we  would  walk  in  safety 
through  Vanity  Fair,  we  must  walk  in  the 
strength  of  Jesus,  who  has  overcome  its 
great  promotei ,  Satan. 


Noiv  these  Pilgrims. — Christian  and 
Faithful  in  Vanity  Fair  are  intended  to 
represent  Christian  men  in  the  world — in  it, 
but  not  0/  it.  The  world  is  to  them  a 
strange  place,  and  they  are  to  the  world  a 
strange  people.  The  world  knows  them 
not,  understands  them  not,  loves  them  not. 
There  is  alienation  and  estrangement  be- 
tween the  Christian  and  the  world  ;  and  this 
is  indicated  by  the  (spiritual)  raiment,  speech 
?.nd  spirit  of  the  Pilgrims. 

They  are  unlike  not  only  in  outward 
dress,  but  also  in  the  inward  adorning  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit — "  all  glorious  within." 
The  men  of  Vanity  (did  they  but  know  it) 
are  clothed  in  rags.  Not  one  of  them  is 
clothed  in  courtly  dress ;    n^r  is  any  pre-^ 


158 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


One  chanced,  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriages  of  the  men, 
to  say  unto  them,  What  will  ye  buy?  but  they,  looking  gravely 
upon  him,  said,  "We  buy  the  truth"  (Prov.  23  :  23).  At  that  there 
was  an  occasion  taken  to  despise  the  men  the  more,  some  mocking, 
some  taunting  them.  At  last  things  came  to  a  hubbub  and  great 
stir  in  the  fair,  insomuch  that  all  order  was  confounded.  Now  was 
word  presently  brought  to  the  great  one  of  the  fair,  who  quickly 
came  down,  and  deputed  some  of  his  most  trusty  friends  to  take  those 
men  into  examination,  about  whom  the  fair  was  almost  overturned. 
So  the  men  were  brought  to  examination  ;  and  they  that  sat  upon 
them  asked  them  whence  they  came,  whither  they  went,  and  what 
they  did  there  in  such  an  unusual  garb  ?  The  men  told  them  that 
they  were  pilgrims  and  strangers  in  the  world  ;  and  that  they  were 
going  to  their  own  country,  which  was  the  heavenly  Jerusalem 
(Heb.  II  :  13-16)  ;  and  that  they  had  given  no  occasion  to  the  men 
of  the  town,  nor  yet  to  the  merchandisers,  thus  to  abuse  them,  and 
to  let  them  in  their  journey ;  except  it  was  for  that,  when  one  asked 
them  what  they  would  buy,  they  said  they  would  "  buy  the  truth," 
But  they  that  were  appointed  to  examine  them  did  not  believe  them 
to  be  any  other  than  bedlams  and  mad,  or  else  such  as  came  to  put 
all  things  into  confusion  in  the  fair.  Therefore  they  took  them  and 
beat  them,  and  besmeared  them  with  dirt,  and  then  put  them  into 
the  cage,  that  they  might  be  made  a  spectacle  to  all  the  men  of  the 
fair.  There  therefore  they  lay  for  some  time,  and  were  made  the 
objects  of  any  man's  sport,  or  malice,  or  revenge  ;  the  great  one  of 
the  fair  laughing  still  at  all  that  befell  them.  But  the  men  being 
patient,  and  "  not  rendering  railing  for  railing,  but  contrariwise  bless- 
ing," and  giving  good  words  for  bad,  and  kindness  for  injuries  done; 
some  men  in  the   fair,  that  were  more  observing  and  less  prejudiced 


pared  to  stand  before  the  King.  They  must 
first  put  off  the  world  and  the  love  of  the 
world,  and  put  on  the  robe  which  Chris- 
tian had  received  at  the  Cross— the  spotless 
robe  of  a  Saviour's  Righteousness. 

They  are  also  unlike  in  speech — not  in 
the  spoken  dialect,  but  in  the  spiritual  utter- 
ance of  heart  and  soul  out  of  the  abundance 
of  which  the  mouth  speaketh.  Our  words 
are  the  expression  of  our  thoughts ;  and  as 
the  thoughts  of  the  Christian  man  are  re- 
newed day  by  day,  he  speaks  the  corre- 
sponding words  of  holiness  so  unlike  the 


speech  of  carnal  men.  It  is  the  spirit  that 
speaks,  and  not  the  lips  only.  "  O  Lord, 
open  thou  our  lips,  and  our  mouth  shall 
show  forth  thy  praise  !  " 

They  are,  moreover,  unlike  in  spirit — in 
the  spirit  of  their  love,  their  choice,  and  their 
desire.  Their  treasure  was  on  high,  and 
their  heart  was  there  also ;  or,  as  Bunyan 
says,  "  their  trade  and  traffic  was  in  heaven." 

But,  the  men  being  patient. — The  spirit  of 
Christian  forbearance,  meekness  and  gen- 
tleness at  all  times  exercises  a  powerful  in- 
fluence upon  those  that  are  without.     There 


1  fte  Filgyims  put  in  the  Cage. 


159 


than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and  blame  tlie  baser  sort  for  their  con- 
tinual abuses  done  by  them  to  the  men.  They  therefore  in  ano-ry 
manner  let  fly  at  them  again,  counting  them  as  bad  as  the  men  in  the 
cage,  and  telling  them  that  they  seemed  confederates,  and  should  be 
made  j'ariakers  of  their  misfortune.  The  other  replied  that,  for 
aught  tiiey  could  see,  the  men  were  quiet  and  sober,  and  intended  no 
body  any  harm  ;  and  that  there  were  many  that  traded  in  their  fair,  that 
were  more  worthy  to  be  put  into  the  cage,  yea,  and  pillory  too.  than 
were  th(;  men  that  they  had  abused.  Thus,  after  divers  words  had 
passed  on  both  sides  (the  men  behaving  themselves  all  the  while 
very  wisely  and  soberly  before  them),  they  fell  to  some  blows  and 
did  harm  one  to  another.  Then  were  these  two  poor  men  brought  be- 
fore their  examiners  again,  and  there  charged  as  being  guilty  of  the 
late  hubbub  that  had  been  in  the  fair.  So  they  beat  them  pitifully, 
and  hanged  irons  upon  them,  and  led  them  in  chains  up  and  down 
the  fair,  for  an  example  and  terror  to  others,  lest  any  should  speak 
m  their  behalf,  or  join  themselve?.  unto  them.  But  Christian  and 
Faithful  behaved  themselves  yet  more  wisely,  and  receive  d  the 
ignominy  and  shame  that  was  cast  upon  them  with  so  much  meek- 
ness and  patience,  that  it  won  to  their  side  (though  but  few  in  com- 
parison with  the  rest)  several  of  the  men  of  the  fair.  This  put  the 
other  party  yet  into  a  greater  rage,  insomuch  that  they  concluded  the 
death  of  these  two  men.  Wherefore  they  threatened  that  neither 
cage  nor  irons  should  serve  their  turn,  but  that  they  should  die  for 
the  abuse  they  had  done,  and  for  deluding  the  men  of  the  fair. 

Then  were  they  remanded  to  the  cage  again,  until  further  orders 
should  be  taken  with  them.  So  they  put  them  in,  and  made  their  feet 
fast  in  the  stocks. 

Here,  therefore,  they  called  again  to  mind  what  they  had  heard 
from  their  faithful  friend  Evangelist,  and  were  the  more  confirmed  in 


were  those,  even  in  Vanity  Fair,  who  were 
moved  to  a  spirit  of  sympathy  for  the  Pil- 
grims, some  fruits  of  which  shall  by-and-by 
appear.  Notwithstanding  their  blindness 
and  prejudice,  they  can  yet  perceive  and 
appreciate  the  contrast  between  the  perse- 
cutors and  the  persecuted.  Even  the  un- 
godly can  at  times  be  persuaded,  when  by 
observation  of  Christian  meekness  and  for- 
bearance they  "  take  knowledge  of  us  that 
we  have  been  with  Jesus."  The  consistency 
of  these  men,  in  spirit  and  in  doctrine,  tends 


to  divide  the  multitude,  and  thus  breaks  the 
force  of  the  opposition  raised  against  them. 
Finding  that  they  could  prevail  nothing 
against  these  men,  but  that  rather  a  tumult 
was  made,  the  men  of  the  Fair  are  impelled 
to  yet  more  vigorous  measures,  in  order  to 
suppress  the  protest  against  it  by  the  Pil- 
grims. Their  bondage  is  now  made  bitter 
to  them,  and  the  iron  enters  into  their  very 
soul.  It  is  in  that  "cage"  or  prison  of 
Vanity  Fair  that  Bunyan  now  writes  his 
narrative ;  and  as  he  looks  around  spon  His 


160 


The  Pilg7'im's  Progress. 


CHRISTIAN!  AND  FAITHFUL  PUT  IN  IRONS. 

their  way  and  sufferings  by  what  he  told  them  would  happen  to  them. 
They  also  now  comforted  each  other,  that  whose  lot  it  was  to  suffer, 
even  he  should  have  the  best  of  it ;  therefore  each  man  secretly  wished 
that  he  might  have  that  preferment ;  but  committing  themselves  to  the 
all-wise  dispose  of  Him  that  ruledi  all  things,  widi  much  content  they 
abode  in  the  condition  in  which  they  were,  until  they  should  be  other- 
wise dispo'jed  of. 

The',\  ^.  convenient  time  being  appointed,  they  brought  them  forth 
to  their  ^nal  in  order  to  their  condemnation.  When  the  time  was 
come  they  were  brought  before  their  enemies,  and  arraigned.     The 


bondage,  and  looks  within,  to  search  out  the 
cause  thereof,  he  reads  in  his  ov  n  experi- 
ence, and  in  that  o^  many  of  the  tried  and 
suffering  members  o^  Christ,  this  and  the 
following  scenes  of  tr-e  "  Progress." 

How  descr.ptivj  u  the  •vhr/e  picture  ren- 
dered by  the  c\^.cckc^  o'.  <■-»','  j'^spective  parties 


who  rise  in  opposition  to  Christian  and 
Faithful.  Each  man's  name  speaks  its 
own  tale,  and  is  the  very  personification  of 
some  spiritual  or  earthly  form  of  the  antag- 
onism of  the  world  to  the  Church  and  peo- 
ple of  God. 

The  circumstances  of  Bunyan's  days,  that 


The   Trial  of  Chnstian  and  Faithful.  161 

judge's  name  was  Lord  Hate-good  ;  their  indictment  was  one  and  the 
same  in  substance,  though  somewhat  varying  in  form ;  the  contents 
whereof  were  these:  "That  they  were  enemies  to,  and  disturbers  of, 
their  trade ;  that  they  had  made  commotions  and  divisions  in  the 
town,  and  had  won  a  party  to  their  own  most  dangerous  opinions,  in 
contempt  of  the  law  of  their  prince." 

Then  Faithful  began  to  answer,  that  he  had  only  set  himself 
against  that  which  had  set  itself  against  Him  that  is  higher  than  the 
highest.  And,  said  he,  as  for  disturbance,  I  make  none,  being  myself 
a  man  of  peace;  the  parties  that  were  won  to  us  were  won  by  behold- 
ing our  truth  and  innocence;  and  they  are  only  turned  from  the  worse 
to  the  better.  And  as  to  the  king  you  talk  of,  since  he  is  Beelzebub, 
the  enemy  of  our  Lord,  I  defy  him  and  all  his  angels. 

Then  proclamation  was  made,  that  they  that  had  aught  to  say  for 
their  lord  the  king  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  should  forthwith 
appear  and  give  in  their  evidence.  So  there  came  in  three  witnesses, 
to  wit,  Envy,  Superstition,  and  Pickthank.  They  were  then  asked  if 
they  knew  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  and  what  they  had  to  say  for  their 
lord  the  king  against  him. 

Then  stood  forth  Envy,  and  said  to  this  effect:  My  lord,  I  have 
known  this  man  a  long  time,  and  will  attest  upon  my  oath  before  this 
honorable  bench  that  he  is 

Judge.    Hold,  give  him  his  oath. 

So  they  sware  him.  Then  he  said,  My  lord,  this  man,  notwith- 
standing his  plausible  name,  is  one  of  the  vilest  men  in  our  country  ; 
he  neither  regardeth  prince  nor  people,  law  nor  custom,  but  doeth  all 
that  he  can  to  possess  all  men  with  certain  of  his  disloyal  notions, 
which  he  in  general  calls  "principles  of  faith  and  holiness."  And 
in  particular,  I  heard  him  once  myself  affirm,  that  Christianity  and  the 
customs  of  our  town  of  Vanity  were  diametrically  opposite,  and  could 
not  be  reconciled.  By  which  saying,  my  lord,  he  doth  at  once  not 
only  condemn  all  our  laudable  doings,  but  us  in  the  doing  of  them. 

Then  did  the  Judge  say  unto  him,  Hast  thou  anymore  to  say? 

Envy.    My  lord,  I  could  say  much  more,  only  I   would  not  be 

gave  a  special  point  and  power  to  his  Alle-      Mammon,  scoffs  at  "the  principles  of  faith 


gory,  are  now  past  and  gone ;  but  the  real- 


and  holiness,"  and,  moreover,  would  blend 


ity  remains.  into  one  element  the  realities  of  religion  and 


Eniiy. — This    witness    still    continues   to 

accuse  the  men  of  God.     Envy  is  that  spirit 

of  the  evil  mind  which  calls  rehgion  a  mere 

plausible   fiction,    and,    through   loyalty    to 

11 


the  vanities  of  \'anity  Fair.  The  true  Chris- 
tian cannot  accede  to  this  unholy  combina- 
tion. 

Superstition. — This  is  also  an  element  of 


162 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


tedious  to  the  court.  Yet  if  need  be,  when  the  other  gentlemen  have 
given  in  their  evidence,  rather  than  anything  shall  be  wanting  that 
will  despatch  him,  I  will  enlarge  my  testimony  against  him.  So  he 
was  bid  to  stand  by. 

Then  they  called  Superstition,  and  bid  him  look  upon  the  pris- 
oner ;  they  also  asked  what  he  could  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against 
him?     Then  they  sware  him;  so  he  began: 

My  lord,  I  have  no  great  acquaintance  with  this  man,  nor  do  I 
desire  to  have  further  knowledge  of  him ;  however,  this  I  know,  that 
he  is  a  very  pestilent  fellow,  from  some  discourse  that  the  other  day 
I  had  with  him  in  this  town;  for  then  talking  with  him  I  heard  him 
say  that  our  religion  was  naught,  and  such  by  which  no  man  could 
please  God.  Which  saying  of  his,  my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well 
knows  what  necessarily  thence  will  follow,  to  wit,  that  we  still  do  wor- 
ship in  vain,  are  yet  in  our  sins,  and  finally  shall  be  damned  ;  and  this 
is  that  which  I  have  to  say. 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn,  and  bid  say  what  he  knew  in  the 
behalf  of  their  lord  the  king  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen  all,  this  fellow  I  have  known  of  a 
long  time,  and  have  heard  him  speak  things  that  ought  not  to  be 
spoke;  for  he  hath  railed  on  our  noble  prince  Beelzebub,  and  hath 
spoken  contemptibly  of  his  honorable  friends,  whose  names  are  the 
Lord  Oldman,  the  Lord  Carnal-delight,  the  Lord  Luxurious,  the  Lord 
Desire-of-vainglor)^  my  old  Lord  Lechery,  Sir  Having  Greedy,  with 
all  the  rest  of  our  nobility ;  and  he  hath  said,  moreover,  that  if  all  men 
were  of  his  mind,  if  possible,  there  is  not  one  of  these  noblemen 
should  have  any  longer  a  being  in  this  town.  Besides  he  hath  not 
been  afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord,  who  are  now  appointed  to  be  his 
judge,  calling  you  an  ungodly  villain,  with  many  other  such-like  vili- 
fying terms,  with  which  he  hath  bespattered  most  of  the  gentry  of  our 
town. 

When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  Judge  directed  his 
speech  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  saying,  Thou  runagate,  heretic  and 
traitor,  hast  thou  heard  what  these  honest  gentlemen  have  witnessed 
against  thee? 


accusation  still  urged  against  the  true  Chris- 
tian. It  means  more  than  is  implied  in  the 
ordinary  use  of  the  term.  It  includes  all 
that  formal  worship  which  is  opposed  to  the 
service  of  true  faith. 

Pickthank. — This  is  a  suggestive  name. 


and  partly  tells  the  nature  of  the  man.  He 
is  a  person  who  gathers  what  merit  he  can 
by  volunteering  evidence  against  faithful 
men. 

To  instruct  you  in  our  law. — The  presid- 
ing judge  delivers  his  charge  to  the  jury. 


The  Trial  of  Christian  and  Faithful. 


163 


Fai.    May  I  speak  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  ? 

Judge.  Sirrah,  sirrah,  thou  deservest  to  Hve  no  longer,  but  to  be 
slain  immediately  on  the  place  ;  yet,  that  all  men  may  see  our  gentle- 
ness towards  thee,  let  us  hear  what  thou  hast  to  say. 

Fai.  I  say  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr.  Envy  hath  spoken,  I  never 
said  aught  but  this,  that  what  rule,  or  laws,  or  custom,  or  people,  were 
flat  against  the  word  of  God,  are  diametrically  opposite  to  Christian- 
ity. If  I  have  said  amiss  in  this,  convince  me  of  my  error ;  and  I  am 
ready  here  before  you  to  make  my  recantation. 

As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr.  Superstition,  and  his  charge  against 
me,  I  said  only  this,  that  in  the  worship  of  God  there  is  required  a 
Divine  faith;  but  there  can  be  no  Divine  faith  without  a  Divine  revela- 
tion of  the  will  of  God.  Therefore,  whatever  is  thrust  into  the  wor- 
ship of  God  thatis  not  agreeable  to  Divine  revelation,  cannot  be  done 
but  by  human  faith,  which  faith  will  not  be  profitable  to  eternal  life. 

As  to  what  Mr.  Pickthank  hath  said,  I  say  (avoiding  terms,  as 
that  I  am  said  to  rail  and  the  like),  that  the  prince  of  this  town,  with 
all  the  rabblement,  his  attendants,  by  this  gendeman  named,  are 
more  fit  for  a  being  in  hell  than  in  this  town  and  country ;  and  so  thf 
Lord  have  mercy  upon  me. 

Then  the  Judge  called  to  the  jury  (who  all  this  while  stood  by  to 
hear  and  observe):  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  see  this  man  about 
whom  so  great  an  uproar  hath  been  made  in  this  town  ;  you  have  also 
heard  what  these  worthy  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  him;  also 
you  have  heard  his  reply  and  confession.  It  lieth  now  in  your  breasts 
to  hang  him,  or  save  his  life  ;  but  yet  I  think  meet  to  instruct  you  in 
our  law. 

There  was  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh  the  great,  ser- 
vant to  our  prince,  that,  lest  those  of  a  contrary  religion  should  mul- 
tiply and  grow  too  strong  for  him,  their  males  should  be  thrown  into 
the  river  (Exod.  i:  22).  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the 
days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  the  great,  another  of  his  servants,  that  who- 
ever would  not  fall  down  and  worship  his  golden  image,  should  be 
thrown  into  a  fiery  furnace.  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days 
of  Darius,  that  whoso  for  some  time  called  upon  any  god  but  him, 


This  charge  is  based  on  precedents,  all  of 
which  directly  tend  to  an  adverse  verdict, 
and  seem  to  call  for  the  extreme  penalty  of 
the  law.  "  The  tender  mercies  of  the 
wic"ked   are  cruel ;  "    and  so  the  people  of 


God  have  ever  found  it  to  be,  when  the 
civil  power  has  sanctioned  the  sword  as  a 
weapon  of  persecution.  Runyan  ably  illus- 
trates the  continued  enmity  of  the  world 
against  Divine  faith.     The  spirit  of  intoler- 


164 


The  Death  of  FaithfuL 


.65 


should  be  cast  into  the  hons'  den  (Dan.  Z'-  ^^-  Now  the  siiLiSiaiiice 
of  these  laws  this  rebel  has  broken,  not  only  in  thought  (which  is  not 
to  be  borne),  but  also  in  word  and  deed;  which  must  therefore  needs 
be  intolerable. 

For  that  of  Pharaoh,  his  law  was  made  upon  a  supposition  to 
prevent  mischief,  no  crime  yet  being  apparent;  but  here  is  a  crime 
apparent.  For  the  second  and  third,  you  see  he  disputeth  against 
our  religion  ;  and  for  the  treason  he  hath  confessed  he  deserveth  to 
die  the  death. 

Then  went  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr.  Blindman,  Mr. 
No-good,  Mr.  Malice,  Mr.  Love-lust,  Mr.  Live-loose,  Mr.  Heady, 
Mr.  High-mind,  Mr.  Enmity,  Mr.  Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty,  Mr.  Hate-light, 
and  Mr.  Implacable  ;  who  every  one  gave  in  his  private  verdict 
against  him  among  themselves,  and  afterwards  unanimously  con- 
cluded to  bring  him  in  guilty  before  the  judge.  And  first  Mr.  Blind- 
man,  the  foreman,  said,  I  see  clearly  that  this  man  is  a  heretic. 
Then  said  Mr.  No-good,  Away  with  such  a  fellow  from  the  earth. 
Ay,  said  Mr.  Malice,  for  I  hate  the  very  looks  of  him.  Then  said  Mr. 
Love-lust,  I  could  never  endure  him.  Nor  I,  said  Mr.  Live-loose,  for 
he  would  always  be  condemning  my  way.  Hang  him,  hang  him, 
said  Mr.  Heady.  A  sorry  scrub,  said  Mr.  High-mind.  My  heart 
riseth  against  him,  said  Mr.  Enmity.  He  is  a  rogue,  said  Mr.  Liar. 
Hanging  is  too  good  for  him,  said  Mr.  Cruelty.  Let  us  despatch 
him  out  of  the  way,  said  Mr.  Hate-light.  Then  said  Mr.  Implacable, 
Mio^ht  I  have  all  the  world  oiven  me,  I  could  not  be  reconciled  to 
him  ;  therefore  let  us  forthwith  bring  him  in  guilty  of  death.  And 
so  they  did  ;  therefore  he  was  presently  condemned  to  be  had  from 
the  place  where  he  was  to  the  place  from  whence  he  came,  and  there 
to  be  put  to  the  most  cruel  death  that  could  be  invented. 


ance  needs  but  power  to  wreak  its  ven- 
geance on  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in 
sincerity  and  truth. 

The  Jury. — This  is  a  keen  satire  on  the 
judgment  of  this  world  when  pronounced 
against  the  servants  of  God.  The  names  of 
the  twelve  men  are  suggestive  of  all  the 
elements  of  the  carnal  mind  that  go  to  make 
up  the  "enmity  against  God."  Each  of 
these,  for  some  secret  and  personal  reason, 
hates  the  light,  and,  if  possible,  will  extin- 
guish it. 

Here  is  a  formidable  catalogue  of  vices 


arrayed  against  the  Pilgrims  of  Zion.  Each 
contributes  his  individual  opinion  in  the 
direction  of  his  own  sin,  and  to  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  protest  in  the  person  of  the  man 
of  God.  As  Ahab  dreaded  the  presence  of 
Elijah — "  Hast  thou  found  me,  O  mine 
enemy?"  (i  Kings  21  :  20),  or  as  he  feared 
Micaiah,  the  son  of  Imlah— "But  I  hate 
him ;  for  he  doth  not  prophesy  good  con- 
cerning me,  but  evil"  (i  Kings  22:  8) — so 
are  all  the  opinions  set  against  Faithful, 
and  all  are  gathered  into  the  final  verdict — 
"  Guilty  of  Heath." 


166 


The  Pilgrim  s 


Progress. 


They  therefore  brought  him  out  to  do  with  him  according  to 
their  law :  and  first  they  scourged  him,  then  they  buffeted  him,  then 
they  lanced  his  flesh  with  knives ;  after  that  they  stoned  him  with 
stones  ;  then  pricked  him  with  their  swords ;  and  last  of  all  they 
burned  him  to  ashes  at  the  stake.     Thus  came  Faithful  to  his  end. 

Now  I  saw  there  stood  behind  the  multitude  a  chariot  and  a 
couple  of  horses  waiting  for  Faithful ;  who,  as  soon  as  his  adver- 
saries had  despatched  him,  was  taken  up  into  it,  and  straightway  was 
carried  up  through  the  clouds,  with  sound  of  trumpet,  the  nearest 
way  to  the  Celestial  gate.  But  as  for  Christian,  he  had  some  respite, 
and  was  remanded  back  to  prison ;  so  he  there  remained  for  a 
space;  but  He  that  overrules  all  things,  having  the  power  of  their 
rage  in  his  own  hand,  so  wrought  it  about  that  Christian  for  that 
time   escaped  them  and  went  his  way. 


SUPERSTITION. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Christian  and  Hopeful. 

Once  more  the  scene  changes.  Faithful,  whose  ripened  experience  has  already 
so  tended  to  our  instruction,  has  been  withdrawn  from  the  pilgrimage,  and  is  "  at  rest." 
But,  as  it  were  out  of  the  ashes  of  the  mar.yr,  another  Pilgrim  arises,  to  join  himself  to 
Christian,  and  to  share  the  subsequent  joys  and  sorrows  and  spiritual  vicissitudes  of  the 
journey,  even  to  the  end.     This  man's  name  is  Hopeful. 

OW  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  went  not  forth  alone ; 
for  there  was  one  whose  name  was  Hopeful  (being  so 
made  by  the  beholding  of  Christian  and  Faithful,  in  their 

words  and  behavior  in  their  sufferings  at  the  fair),  who 

joined  himself  unto  him,  and,  entering  into  a  brotherly 
covenant,  told  him  that  he  would  be  his  companion.  Thus  one  died 
to  bear  testimony  to  the  truth,  and  another  rises  out  of  his  ashes  to 
be  a  companion  with  Christian.  This  Hopeful  also  told  Christian, 
that  there  were  many  more  of  the  men  in  the  fair  that  would  take 
their  time  and  follow  after. 

So  I  saw  that,  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of  the  fair,  they 
overtook  one  that  was  going  before  them,  whose  name  was  By-ends ; 
so  they  said  to  him,  What  countryman,  sir?  and  how  far  go  you 
this  way  ?  He  told  them  that  he  came  from  the  town  of  Fair-speech, 
and  was  going  to  the  Celestial  City  ;  but  he  told  them  not  his 
name. 


Christian  went  not  forth  alone. — We  have 
already  found,  in  the  preceding  chapter,  that 
the  wrongs  and  indignities  inflicted  upon 
Christian  and  Faithful,  in  Vanity  Fair, 
and  their  patient  endurance  of  the  same, 
had  won  over  to  their  side  a  certain  number 
of  the  citizens.  Of  these  some  have  ulti- 
mately ripened  into  true  pilgrims  of  the  road 
to  Zion ;  but  one  in  particular  is  now  repre- 
sented as  accompanying  Christian  on  his 
way.  The  influence  of  good  men  is  never 
wholly  wasted ;  many  seeds  may  perish  in 
the  soil,  but  some  will  yet  supply  sheaves 
for  the  reaper,  so  that  "  he  that  soweth  and 


he  that  reapeth  may  rejoice  together."  The 
protest  of  these  Pilgrims,  concluding  with 
the  martyrdom  of  Faithful,  has  now  added 
one  new  convert  to  the  faith  of  Christ  and 
to  the  path  of  the  pilgrimage. 

Whose  natne  was  Hopeful. — A  well-chosen 
name,  especially  as  the  successor  of  Faith- 
ful. Faith  first,  and  then  Hope — first  the 
groundwork,  then  the  superstructure.  We 
are  here  for  the  first  time  introduced  to  one 
who  ever  after  proves  a  meet  companion  and 
profitable  help  to  Christian,  amid  all  the 
changing  scenes  of  their  checkered  course. 

A  brotherly  covenant, — Much  is  meant  to 


(167) 


168 


The  Pilgrim! s  Progress. 


HOPEFUL  JOINS  COMPANY  WITH  CHRISTIAN 

From  Fair-Speech  !  said  Christian  ;  is  there  any  good  that  lives 
there?     (Prov.  26:   25). 

Yes,  said  By-ends,  I  hope. 

Chr.   Pray,  sir,  what  may  I  call  you  ? 

By.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you  and  you  to  me :  if  you  be  going 
this  way,  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company ;  if  not,  I  must  be 
content. 

Chr.  This  town  of  Fair-speech  I  have  heard  of  it,  and,  as  I 
remember,  they  say  it  is  a  wealthy  place. 


be  included  in  this  expression.  He  has  for- 
saken all  for  Christ ;  and  in  the  strong  con- 
fidence of  beheving  faith  he  has  attached 
himself  to  the  Pilgrim  of  Zion — "Whither 
thou  goest,  I  will  go  ;  and  where  thou  lodg- 
est,  I  will  lodge :  thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  thy  God  my  God." 

One,    whose  name    was   Bv-ends. — The 


narrative  of  Hopeful  has  scarce  begun, 
when  it  is  interrupted  by  the  intervention  of 
other  pilgrims.  We  are  introduced  to  new 
characters  on  the  road,  and  to  new  experi- 
ences of  the  ways  of  men.  Bunyan  fre- 
quently groups  his  characters,  and  summons 
them  before  us  in  a  way  suggested  by  the 
different  stages  of  the  journey.     Thus,  while 


christian  talks  with  By-ends. 


169 


By.    Yes,  I  will  assure  you  that  it  is  ;  and  I  have  very  many  rich 
kindred  there, 

Chr.    Pray,  who  are  your  kindred  there,  if  a  man   may  be  so 
bold  ? 

By.  Almost  the  whole  town  ;  and,  in  particular,  my  Lord  Turn- 
about, my  Lord  Time-server,  my  Lord  Fair-speech,  from  whose 
ancestors  that  town  first  took  its  name ;  also  Mr.  Smooth-man,  Mr, 
Facing-both-ways,  Mr.  Anything;  and  the  parson  of  our  parish,  Mr. 
Two-tongues,  was  my  mother's  own  brother  by  father's  side  ;  and,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  a  gendeman  of  good  quality  ;  yet  my  great- 
grandfather was  but  a  waterman,  looking  one  way  and  rowing  another, 
and  I  got  most  of  my  estate  by  the  same  occupation. 
Chr.    Are  you  a  married  man  ? 

By.  Yes,  and  my  wife  is  a  very  virtuous  woman,  the  daughter  of 
a  virtuous  woman  ;  she  was  my  Lady  Feigning's  daughter  ;  therefore 
she  came  of  a  very  honorable  family,  and  is  arrived  to  such  a  pitch 
of  breeding,  that  she  knows  how  to  carry  it  to  all,  even  to  prince  and 
peasant.  It  is  true  we  somewhat  differ  in  religion  from  those  of  the 
stricter  sort,  yet  but  in  two  small  points :  first,  we  never  strive 
against  wind  and  tide  ;  secondly,  we  are  always  more  zealous  when 
Religion  goes  in  his  silver  slippers.  We  love  much  to  walk  with  him 
in  the  street,  if  the  sun  shines,  and  the  people  applaud  him. 

Then  Chrisdan  stepped  a  litde  aside  to  his  fellow.  Hopeful,  saying, 
It  runs  in  my  mind  that  this  is  one  By-ends,  of  Fair-speech  ;  and  if  it 
be  he,  we  have  as  very  a  knave  in  our  company  as  dwelleth  in  all 
these  parts.  Then,  said  Hopeful,  Ask  him  ;  methinks  he  should  not 
be  ashamed  of  his  name.  So  Christian  came  up  with  him  again 
and  said.  Sir,  you  talk  as  if  you  knew  something  more  than  all  the 
world  doth,  and,  if  I  take  not  my  mark  amiss,  I  deem  I  have  half  a 
guess  of  you;  is  not  your  name  Mr.  By-ends,  of  Fair-speech? 


yet  in  the  vicinity  of  Vanity  Fair,  the  Pil- 
grims meet  with  certain  vain  and  worldly- 
minded  men,  who  linger  about  its  suburbs. 
These  characters  are  introduced  in  order  to 
exhibit,  in  this  context,  how  the  love  of  the 
world  hinders  men  from  running  the  Chris- 
tian race. 

First  among  this  group  is  By-ends.  The 
character  of  this  style  of  man  is  most  strik- 
ingly delineated  in  his  name,  his  origin,  and 
his  acquaintances.  The  town  of  Fair-speech, 
its  great  wealth  and  luxury,  the  character- 


istic names  of  its  nobility  and  gentr}%  con- 
stitue  a  well-wrought  picture  of  Bunyan's 
own  times.  The  spiritual  indifference  and 
apathy  of  Mr.  Smooth-man,  the  double- 
mindedness  of  Mr.  Facing-both-ways,  and 
the  neutrality  of  Mr.  Anything,  form  a 
comprehensive  picture  of  a  generation  utter'y 
devoted  to  worldliness. 

Mr.  Two-tongues,  "  the  parson  of  the 
parish,"  is  another  touch  of  the  pencil,  con- 
veying by  a  single  stroke  the  character  of 
many  of  the  clergy  of  that  period. 


170 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


By.  This  is  not  my  name,  but  indeed  it  is  a  nickname  that  is 
given  me  by  some  that  cannot  abide  me  ;  and  I  must  be  content  to 
bear  it  as  a  reproach,  as  other  good  men  have  borne  theirs  before  me. 

Chr.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  to  call  you  by 
this  name  ? 

By.  Never !  never !  the  worst  that  ever  I  did,  to  give  them  an 
occasion  to  give  me  this  name,  was,  that  I  had  always  the  luck  to 
jump  in  my  judgment  with  the  present  way  of  the  times,  whatever  it 
was  ;  and  my  chance  was  to  get  thereby.  But  if  things  are  thus 
cast  upon  me,  let  me  count  them  a  blessing ;  but  let  not  the  mali- 
cious load  me  therefore  with  reproach. 

Chr.  I  thought  indeed  that  you  were  the  man  that  I  heard  of; 
and,  to  tell  you  what  I  think,  I  fear  that  this  name  belongs  to  you 
more  properly  than  you  are  willing  we  should  think  it  doth. 

By.  Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  I  cannot  help  it ;  you  shall 
find  me  a  fair  company-keeper  if  you  will  admit  me  your  associate. 

Chr.  If  you  will  go  with  us,  you  must  go  against  wind  and 
tide,  the  which,  I  perceive,  is  against  your  opinion  ;  you  must  also 
own  Religion  in  his  rags  as  well  as  when  in  his  silver  slippers  ;  and 
stand  by  him  too  when  bound  in  irons,  as  well  as  when  he  walketh 
the  streets  with  applause. 

By.  You  must  not  impose  nor  lord  it  over  my  faith;  leave  me 
to  my  liberty,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

Chr.  Not  a  step  further,  unless  you  will  do  in  what  I  propound 
as  we. 

Then,  said  By-ends,  I  shall  never  desert  my  old  principles,  since 
they  are  harmless  and  profitable.  If  I  may  not  go  with  you,  I  must 
do  as  I  did  before  you  overtook  me,  even  go  by  myself,  until  some 
overtake  me  that  will  be  glad  of  my  company. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  forsook 
him,  and  kept  their  distance  before  him  ;  but  one  of  them  looking 
back  saw  three  men  following  Mr.  By-ends,  and  behold  as  they  came 
up  with  him  he  made  them  a  very  low  congee  ;  and  they  also  gavt 


The  rules  adopted  in  the  family  of  By- 
ends  are  consistent  with  all  other  character- 
istics of  the  race.  These  worldly-wise  pro- 
fessors always  contrive  to  go  with  the  stream, 
not  against  it.  The  purest  days  of  the 
Church's  history  have  ever  been  the  days  of 
her  bitterest  persecution.  "What  is  the 
chaff  to  the  wheat "  in  those  days  ?  (Jer.  23 : 


28).  Adverse  wind  and  tide  are  for  the  trial 
and  victory  of  the  faith  of  good  and  true 
men ;  while  the  genial  warmth  of  worldly 
pursuits  encourages  the  growth  of  tares  amid 
the  pure  grain. 

Three  men  following  Mr.  By-ends. — A 
group  of  men  of  fleshly  mind  is  now  formed, 
by  the  accession  of  three  persons,  each  and 


The  Hypocrites. 


171 


him  a  compliment.  The  men's  names  were  Mr.  Hold-the-world,  Mr. 
Money-love,  and  Mr.  Save-all — men  that  Mr.  By-ends  had  formerly 
been  acquainted  with ;  for  in  their  minority  they  were  schoolfellows, 
and  were  taught  by  one  Mr.  Gripeman,  a  schoolmaster  in  Love-gain, 
which  is  a  market-town  in  the  county  of  Coveting,  in  the  north 
This  schoolmaster  taught  them  the  art  of  getting,  either  by  violence, 
cozenage,  flattery,  lying,  or  by  putting  on  a  guise  of  religion  ;  and 
these  four  gentlemen  had  attained  much  of  the  art  of  their  master, 
so  that  they  could  each  of  them  have  kept  such  a  school  themselves. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I  said,  thus  saluted  each  other,  Mr. 
Money-love  said  to  Mr.  By-ends,  Who  are  they  upon  the  road  before 
MS?  for  Christian  aad  Hopeful  were  yet  within  their  view. 

By.  They  are  a  couple  of  far  countrymen,  that  after  their  mode 
are  going  on  pilgrimage. 

Money.  Alas !  why  did  they  not  stay,  that  we  might  have  had 
their  good  company?  for  they,  and  we,  and  you,  sir,  I  hope,  are  all 
going  on  pilgrimage. 

By.  We  are  so  indeed ;  but  the  men  before  us  are  so  rigid,  and 
love  so  much  their  own  notions,  and  do  also  so  lightly  esteem  the 
opinions  of  others,  that  let  a  man  be  ever  so  godly,  yet  if  he  jumps 
not  with  them  in  all  things,  they  thrust  him  quite  out  of  their  com- 
pany. 

Save.  That's  bad ;  but  we  read  of  some  that  are  "  righteous 
over  much,"  and  such  men's  rigidness  prevails  with  them  to  judge 
and  condemn  all  but  themselves ;  but,  I  pray,  what  and  how  many 
were  the  things  wherein  you  differed  ? 

By.  Why  they,  after  their  headstrong  manner,  conclude  that  it 
is  their  duty  to  rush  on  their  journey  in  all  weathers  ;  and  I  am  for 
waiting  for  wind  and  tide.  They  are  for  hazarding  all  for  God  at  a 
clap;  and  I  am  for  taking  all  advantages  to  secure  my  life  and 
estate.  They  are  for  holding  their  notions  though  all  other  men 
are  against  them  ;   but  I  am  for  Religion  in  what  and  so  far  as  the 


all  bearing  very  significant  names,  and 
bound  together  by  very  characteristic  asso- 
ciations. The  design  of  Bunyan  is  still  to 
bring  his  power  of  satire  to  bear  upon  the 
too  prevalent  sin  of  his  age — the  hypocritical 
profession  of  religion  along  with  an  essen- 
tially carnal  mind  and  world-loving  spirit. 

The    Christian    man    knows   that    these 
carnal  things  are  but  for  a  time,  and  that 


the  interests  of  religion  and  the  soul  stretcli 
away  into  Eternity  ;  and,  therefore,  whether 
it  be  contempt  or  applause,  his  mind  is  still 
set  on  heavenly  things ;  and,  with  the  Apos- 
tle, he  is  ready  to  say  :  "I  reckon  that  the 
sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy 
to  be  compared  with  the  glory  which  shall 
be  revealed"  (Rom.  8  :    18). 

Here,  then,  is  a  company  of  carnal  men. 


The  Hypocrites, 


173 


imes  and  my  safety  will  bear  it.  They  are  for  Religion  when  in 
rags  and  contempt ;  but  I  am  for  him  when  he  walks  in  his  golden' 
jlippers,  in  the  sunshine,  and  with  applause. 

Hold,  Aye,  and  hold  you  there  still,  good  Mr.  By-ends;  for  my 
part,  I  can  count  him  but  a  fool  that,  having  the  liberty  to  keep  what 
he  has,  shall  be  so  unM^se  as  to  lose  it.  Let  us  be  "  wise  as 
serpents  ;"  it  is  best  "to  make  hay  when  the  sun  shines;  "  you  set 
how  the  bee  lieth  still  in  the  winter,  and  bestirs  her  only  when  she 
can  have  profit  with  pleasure.  God  sends  sometimes  rain  and 
sometimes  sunshine  ;  if  they  be  such  fools  as  to  go  through  the 
first,  yet  let  us  be  content  to  take  fair  weather  along  with  us.  For 
my  part,  I  like  that  religion  best  that  will  stand  with  the  security  of 
God's  good  blessings  unto  us ;  for  who  can  imagine,  that  is  ruled 
by  his  reason,  since  God  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good  things  of 
this  life,  but  that  he  would  have  us  keep  them  for  his  sake? 
Abraham  and  Solomon  grew  rich  in  religion ;  and  Job  says  that  a 
good  man  "  shall  lay  up  gold  as  dust."  But  he  must  not  be  such  as 
the  men  before  us,  if  they  be  as  you  have  described  them. 

Save.  I  think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter,  and  there- 
fore there  need  no  more  words  about  it. 

MoN.     No,    there    needs    no    more    words   about   this    matter 
mdeed;  for  he  that  believes  neither  Scripture  nor  reason  (and  you 
see  we  have  both  on  our  side),  neither  knows   his  own  liberty  nor 
"  seeks  his  own  safety. 

By.  My  brethren,  we  are,  you  see,  going  all  on  pilgrimage, 
and,  for  our  better  diversion  from  things  that  are  bad,  give  me  leave 
to  propound  unto  you  this  question. 

Suppose  a  man,  a  minister,  or  tradesman,  etc.,  should  have  an 
advantage  lie  before  him  to  get  the  good  blessings  of  this  life,  yet 
so  as  that  he  can  by  no  means  come  by  them  except,  in  appearance 
at  least,  he  becomes  extraordinary  zealous  in  some  points  of 
religion  that  he  meddled  not  with  before  ;  may  he  not  use  this 
means  to  attain  his  end,  and  yet  be  a  right  honest  man 


who,  through  all  sor*.*  i^/>y  ways  and  by-ends, 
contrive  to  hold  the  w^r^d,  and.  love  their 
money,  and  save  all  they  «:^rv.  Tbeir  calcu- 
lations exhibit  the  grr,veM>nij  earftihness  of 
•heir  minds.  The  worldJy-wisdMv  the  plaus- 
ible speech,  and  the  ^ci£r,\\n<f  n-  isperity  of 
these  men's  counsel  neeu  ii'iU  )'  interpreted 
in  the  light  of  God's  W  f*..  •  o  weighed  in 


the  balances  with  eternal  things,  to  expose 
their  vanity,  their  folly,  their  worse  than 
madness. 

Then  said  Christian. — Our  Pilgrim's  an 
swer  is  based  on  precedents  and  examples 
found  in  Holy  Writ,  which  prove  how  earthly 
gain  may  be  changed  to  heavenly  loss.     'Tis 
true,  God  ofttimes  smiles  upon  the  earthly 


174  The  Pilgrims  Progress. 

MoN.  I  see  the  bottom  of  your  question  ;  and  with  these  gentle- 
men's good  leave,  I  will  endeavor  to  shape  you  an  answer.  And 
first,  to  speak  to  your  question,  as  it  concerns  a  mi^iister  himself. 
Suppose  a  minister,  a  worthy  man,  possessed  but  of  a  very  small 
benefice,  and  has  in  his  eye  a  greater,  more  fat  and  plump  by  far ;  he 
h  id  also  now  an  opportunity  of  getting  it ;  yet  so  as  by  being  more 
studious,  by  preaching  more  frequently  and  zealously,  and,  because 
the  temperof  the  people  requires  it,  by  altering  some  of  his  principles  ; 
for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  but  a  man  may  do  this,  provided  he  has 
a  call,  aye,  and  more  a  great  deal  besides.and  yet  be  an  honest  man. 
For  why  ? 

1.  His  desire  of  a  greater  berefice  is  lawful  ;  this  cannot  be  cor 
tradicted,  since  it  is  set  before  hi.n  by  Providence.  So  then  he  ma) 
get  it  if  he  can,  "  making  no  question  for  conscience'  sake." 

2.  Besides.his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him  more  studious, 
a  more  zealous  preacher,  etc.,  and  so  makes  him  a  better  man  ;  yea, 
makes  him  better  improve  his  parts ;  which  is  according  to  the  mind 
of  God. 

3.  Now,  as  for  his  complying  with  the  temper  of  his  people  by 
deserting,  to  serve  them,  some  of  his  principles,  this  argueth  that  he 
is  of  a  self-denying  teniper,  of  a  sweet  and  winning  deportment,  and 
so  more  fit  for  the  ministerial  function. 

4.  I  conclude,  then,  that  a  minister  that  changes  a  small  {or  2l  great 
should  not,  for  so  doing,  be  judged  as  covetous,  but  rather,  since  he 
is  improved  in  his  parts  and  industry  thereby,  be  counted  as  one  that 
pursues  his  call,  and  the  opportunity  put  into  his  hands  to  do  good. 

And  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  which  concerns  the 
tradesmaji  you  mentioned;  suppose  such  an  one  to  have  but  a  poor 
employ  in  the  world,  but  by  becoming  religious  he  may  mend  his 
market,  perhaps  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  and  far  better  customers  to 
his  shop  ;  for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  but  this  may  be  lawfully  done. 
For  whv? 

1.  To  become  religious  is  a  virtue,  bv  what  means  soever  a 
man  becomes  so. 

2.  Nor  is  it  unlawful  to  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  custom  to  my 
shop. 

I  3.  Besides,  the  man  that  gets  these  by  becoming  religous  gets  that 


career  of  good  men,  and  blesses  them  with  [  thing  for  a  man  to  make  rehgion  a  "  stalk- 
increase,  and  fills  them  with  all  manner  of  '  ing-horse  to  get  and  enjoy  the  world." 
store    and   plenty ;    but  it  is  quite    another  {   Christian,  in    his    answer,  well   describes 


Christians  Answer,  175 

which  is  good,  of  them  tliat  are  good,  by  becoming  good  himself. 
So  then  here  is  a  good  wife,  and  good  customers,  and  good  gain,  and 
all  these  by  becoming  religious,  which  is  good  ;  therefore,  to  become 
religious  to  get  all  these  is  a  good  and  profitable  design. 

This  answer,  thus  made  by  this  Mr.  Money-love  to  Mr.  By-ends' 
question,  was  highly  applauded  by  them  all ;  wherefore  they  con- 
cluded upon  the  whole  that  it  was  most  wholesome  and  advantageous. 
And  because,  as  thev  thougrht,  no  man  was  able  to  contradict  it,  and 
because  Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  within  call,  they  jointly 
agreed  to  assault  them  with  this  question  as  soon  as  they  overtook 
them;  and  the  rather  because  they  had  opposed  Mr.  By-ends  before. 
So  ihey  called  after  them,  and  they  stopped  and  stood  still  till  they 
came  up  to  them  ;  but  they  concluded,  as  they  went,  that  not  Mr 
By-ends,  but  old  Mr.  Hold-the-world  should  propound  the  question 
to  them  ;  because,  as  they  supposed,  their  answer  to  him  would  be 
without  the  remainder  of  that  heat  that  was  kindled  between  Mr.  By- 
ends  and  them  at  their  parting  a  little  before. 

So  they  came  up  to  each  other,  and  after  a  short  salutation,  Mr. 
Hold  the-world  propounded  the  question  to  Christian  and  his  fellow, 
and  bid  them  to  answer  it  if  they  could. 

Then  said  Christian,  Even  a  babe  in  religion  may  answer  ten 
thousand  such  questions.  For  if  it  be  unlawful  to  follow  Christ  for 
loves,  as  it  is  (John  6 :  26),  how  much  more  is  it  abominable  to  make 
of  him  and  religion  a  stalking-horse  to  get  and  enjoy  the  world  ?  Nor 
do  we  find  any  otlier  than  heathens,  hypocrites,  devils,  and  witches, 
that  are  of  this  opinion. 

Heathens  :  for,  when  Hamor  and  Shechem  had  a  mind  to  the 
daughter  and  cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw  that  there  were  no  ways  for 
them  to  come  at  them  but  by  becoming  circumcised,  they  say  to  their 
companions,  "If  every  male  of  us  be  circumcised,  as  they  are  circum- 
cised, shall  not  their  cattle  and  their  substance  and  every  beast  of 
theirs  be  ours?"  Their  daughters  and  their  cattle  were  that  which 
they  sought  to  obtain,  and  their  religion  the  stalking-horse  they  made 
use  of  to  come  at  them.     Read  the  whole  story.  Gen.  34 :   20-24. 

The    hypocritical   Pharisees  were  also   of   this   religion ;    long 


this  to  be  but  a  reproduction  of  the  carnal  all  hard-going  with  the    Pilgrims    of  Zion. 

policy  of  the  heathen  against  Israel,  which   I  There  are  times  of  refreshing,   and  in  the 

God  permitted  to  be  signally  outwitted  and   1  midst  of  toil   there   are  intervals    of  ease, 

overruled.  These  are  generally  timed  according  to  the 

A  delicate  plain,  called  Ease. — It  is  not  j  need  of  the  wayfarers  of  the  road.     And  so 


176 


The  Pilgri?ns  Progress. 


DEMAS  TEMPTS  CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL. 

prayers  were  their  pretence,  but  to  get  widows'  houses  was  their 
intent;  and  greater  damnation  was  from  God  their  judgment  (Luke 
20:  46,  47). 

Judas  the  devil  was  also  of  this  religion  ;  he  was  religious  for 
the  bag,  that  he  might  be  possessed  of  what  was  put  therein  ;  but 
he  was  lost,  a  castaway,  and  the  very  son  of  perdition. 

Simon  the  witch  was  of  this  religion  too;  for  he  would  have 
had  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  he  might  have  got  money  therewith;  and 
his  sentence  from  Peter's  mouth  was  accordingly  (Acts  8:    18-23). 

Neither  will  it  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  that  man  that  takes  up 
religion  for  the  world,  will  throw  away  religion  for  the  world;  for  so 


now,  after  the  hardships  and  bitter  experi- 
ences of  Vanity  Fair,  and  the  still  further 
interruption  of  their  onward  course  by  the 
obtrusive   companionship  of  By-ends   and 


his  comrades,  our  Pilgrims  are  permitted  to 
tread  the  soft  and  delicate  glade  called  Ease. 
This  oasis  in  the  desert  was  narrow,  and 
extended  but  a  very  brief  space.     Ease  is 


The  Silver  Mine. 


177 


surely  as  Judas  designed  the  world  in  becoming  religious,  so  surely 
did  he  also  sell  religion  and  his  Master  for  the  same.  To  answer 
the  question  therefore  affirmatively,  as  I  perceive  you  have  done,  and 
to  accept  of,  as  authentic,  such  answer,  is  both  heathenish,  hypo- 
critical, and  devilish;  and  your  reward  v/ill  be  according  to  your 
works.  I 

Then  they  stood  staring  one  upon  another,  but  had  not  where- 
with to  answer  Christian.  Hopeful  also  approved  of  the  soundness 
of  Christian's  answer  ;  so  there  was  a  great  silence  among  them. 

Mr.  By-ends  and  his  company  also  staggered  and  kept  behind, 
that  Christian  and  Hopeful  might  outgo  them.  Then  said  Christian 
to  his  fellow,  If  these  men  cannot  stand  before  the  sentence  of  men, 
what  will  they  do  with  the  sentence  of  God?  and  if  they  are  mute 
when  dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay,  what  will  they  do  when  they 
shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames  of  a  devouring  fire  ? 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again,  and  went  till 
they  came  to  a  delicate  plain  called  Ease,  where  they  went  with 
much  content ;  but  that  plain  was  but  narrow,  so  they  were  quickly 
got  over  it.  Now  at  the  further  side  of  that  plain  was  a  little  hill, 
called  Lucre,  and  in  that  hill  a  silver  mine,  which  some  of  them  that 
had  formerly  gone  that  way,  because  of  the  rarity  of  it,  had  turned 
aside  to  see;  but  going  too  near  the  brink  of  the  pit,  the  ground 
being  deceitful  under  them  broke,  and  they  were  slain  ;  some  also 
had  been  maimed  there,  and  could  not  to  their  dying  day  be  their 
own  men  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  a  little  off  the  road,  over  against 
the  silver  mine,  stood  Demas,  gentleman-like,  to  call  to  passengers 
to  come  and  see ;  who  said  to  Christian  and  his  fellow,  Ho  !  turn 
aside  hither,  and  I  will  show  you  a  thing. 

CiiR.    What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  out  of  the  way 
to  see  it  ? 

Dem.  Here  is  a  silver  mine,  and  some  dieeinof  in  it  for 
treasure ;  if  you  will  come,  with  a  little  pains  you  may  richly  provide 
for  yourselves. 


granted  to  pilgrims,  but  only  for  a  little 
time,  and  for  present  and  passing  necessity  ; 
and  this  necessity  being  answered,  they 
must  again  take  the  road,  and  bear  its  flints, 
and  endure  hardness  as  good  marching  sol- 
diers of  the  heavenly  King.  It  is  not  well 
for  piKnims  to  sit  too  long  "  at  ease  in 
1:2 


Zion."  And  soon,  recruited  and  refreshed' 
they  must  up  and  away  for  the  onward 
journey.  So  our  Pilgrims,  entering  on  the 
plain  of  Ease,  "  were  quicl^ly  got  over  it." 
And  as  this  refreshment  was  for  compensa- 
tion of  the  past,  so  is  it  also  designed  as  a 
preparation  for  a  danger  soon  to  come. 


178 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Then  said  Hopeful,  Let  us  go  see. 

Not  I,  said  Christian;  I  have  heard  of  this  place  before  now,  and 
how  many  have  there  been  slain  ;  and,  besides,  that  treasure  is  a 
snare  to  those  that  seek  it ;  for  it  hindereth  them  in  their  pilgrimage. 

Then  Christian  called  to  Demas,  saying,  Is  not  the  way  dan- 
gerous?    Hath  it  not  hindered  many  in  their  pilgrimage  ? 

Dem.  Not  very  dangerous,  except  to  those  that  are  careless. 
But  withal  he  blushed  as  he  spake. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  Let  us  not  stir  a  step,  but  still 
keep  on  our  way. 

Hope.  I  will  warrant  you  when  By-ends  comes  up,  if  he  hath 
the  same  invitation  as  we,  he  will  turn  in  thither  to  see. 

Chr.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him  that  way, 
and  a  hundred  to  one  but  he  dies  there. 

Then  Demas  called  again,  saying,  But  will  you  not  come  over 
and  see  ? 

Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying,  Demas,  thou  art  an 
enemy  to  the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  of  this  way,  and  hast  already 
been  condemned  for  thine  own  turning  aside,  by  one  of  his  Majesty's 
judges  ;  and  why  seekest  thou  to  bring  us  into  the  like  condemna^ 
iion  ?  (2  Tim.  4:  10).  Besides,  if  we  at  all  turn  aside,  our  Lord 
the  King  will  certainly  hear  thereof,  and  will  there  put  us  to  shame, 
where  we  would  stand  with  boldness  before  him. 

Demas  cried  again  that  he  also  was  one  of  their  fraternity,  and 
that  if  they  would  tarry  a  little  he  also  himself  would  walk  with 
them. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  is  thy  name  ?  Is  it  not  the  same  by 
the  which  I  have  called  thee  ? 


A  little  hill,  called  Lucre, — This  intro- 
duces the  scene  of  the  "  Silver  Mine,"  and 
its  lurking  dangers,  and  the  deceptive  voice 
of  Demas — a  name  interwoven  here,  illus- 
trative of  the  Apostle's  words  :  "Demas  hath 
forsaken  me,  having  loved  this  present 
world"  (2  Tim.  4:  10).  Whether  that  De- 
mas did  thus  seek  afterwards  to  beguile  the 
members  of  the  Christian  Church,  we  are 
not  informed  ;  but  the  name  is  not  unfitly 
given  to  this  man,  who  now  invites  the  Pil- 
grims to  the  Silver  Mine. 

Observe,  this  mine  is  said  to  be  "a  little 
off  the  road,"  and  Pilgrims  are  asked  "  to 
turn    aside   hither."     The   scene   therefore 


represents  the  undue  pursuit  of  wealth,  the 
going  out  of  one's  Christian  course  to  seek 
after  lucre — the  very  spirit  of  worldly  love 
that  prompted  the  Apostle's  former  compan- 
ion to  forsake  the  way  of  the  Lord. 

This  is  a  tempting  snare  in  the  highway. 
It  has  charms  already  to  win  over  the  heart 
of  Hopeful.  Well  was  it  for  this  new  be- 
ginner that  his  more  experienced  brother 
Christian,  was  there  to  counsel  him,  and 
thus  to  enable  him  to  resist  the  tempting  in- 
vitation of  Demas.  "  My  son,  if  sinners  en- 
tice thee,  consent  thou  not  "  (Prov.  i  :  10). 
Christian's  resistance  to  temptation  is,  as 
on  other  occasions,  accompanied  by  a  re- 


The  Pillar  of  Salt. 


179 


Dem,  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas  ;  I  am  tlie  son  of  Abraham. 

Chr.  I  know  you;  Gehazi  was  your  great-grandfather,  and  Judas 
your  father,  and  you  have  trod  in  their  steps  (2  Kings  5  :  20—27)  ; 
it  is  but  a  devihsh  prank  that  thou  usest;  thy  father  was  hanged  for 
a  traitor,  and  thou  deservest  no  better  reward.  Assure  thyself  that 
when  we  come  to  the  King  we  will  tell  him  of  this  thy  behavior. 
(Matt.  26:  14,  15  ;   27  :  3-5).     Thus  they  went  their  way. 

By  this  time  By-ends  and  his  companions  were  come  again 
within  sight,  and  they  at  the  first  beck  went  over  to  Demas.  NoW; 
whether  they  fell  into  the  pit  by  looking  over  the  brink  thereof,  or 
whether  they  went  down  to  dig,  or  whether  they  were  smothered  in 
the  bottom  by  the  damps  that  commonly  arise,  of  these  things  I  am 
not  certain  ;  but  this  I  observed,  that  they  never  were  seen  again  in 
the  way.     Then  sang  Christian  : 

By-ends  and  silver  Demas  both  a^ee ; 
One  calls,  the  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 
A  sharer  in  his  lucre ;  so  these  two 
Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  further  go. 

Now  I  saw  that,  just  on  the  other  side  of  this  plain,  the  pilgrims 
came  to  a  place  where  stood  an  old  monument  hard  by  the  highway 
side,  at  the  sight  of  which  they  were  botli  concerned,  because  of  the 
strangeness  of  the  form  thereof,  for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  ha.' 
been  a  woman  transformed  into  the  shape  of  a  pillar.  Here,  there 
fore,  they  stood  looking  and  looking  upon  it,  but  could  not  for  a  time 
tell  what  they  should  make  thereof;  at  last  Hopeful  espied  writter 
above  upon  the  head  thereof  a  writing  in  an  unusual  hand ;  but  he, 
being  no  scholar,  called  to  Chrisdan  (for  he  was  learned)  to  see  if 
he  could  pick  out  the  meaning  ;  so  he  came,  and  after  a  little  laying 
of  letters  together,  he  found  the  same  to  be  this,  "Remember  Lot's 


buke  of  the  tempter.  He  reminds  this  man 
of  his  spiritual  pedigree,  and  how  near  of 
kin  he  is  to  the  deception  of  Gehazi  and  to 
the  tre.ichery  of  Iscariot.  Thus  Demas  is 
rebuked,  Hopeful  is  instructed,  and  our 
good  Christian  is  again  triumphant. 

The  anticipations  of  Hopeful  respecting 
Bv-hNDS  and  his  fellows  are  fully  realized, 
rhey  saw  the  bait,  and  caught  at  it,  and 
vvere  drawn  into  the  snare.  The  curtain 
here  falls  upon  an  unfinished  scene  -  what 
bfc^me  of  these  men  ■-  not  told,  but.  sXiffice 


it  to  say,  "  they  never  were  seen  again  in 
the  way." 

Where  stood  an  old  viomiuunt. — This 
stage  is  full  of  admonitory  lessons,  all  tend- 
ing to  impress  the  great  truth  :  '  Let  him 
that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he 
fall."  Here  is  a  memorial  of  ancient  times, 
a  standing  witness  of  the  lack  of  patience  in 
running  the  race,  a  monument  of  one  who 
set  out  upon  pilgrimage,  and  looked  back, 
and  that  "last  fond  lonk"  became  her 
ruin.     Th'*  '^hole  story  of  this  monument  is 


180 


'HE  PILLAR  OF  SALT. 


The  Pilgriijis  warned  by  the  Pillar  of  Salt.  181 

wife."  So  he  read  it  to  his  fellow  ;  after  which  they  both  concluded 
that  that  was  the  pillar  of  salt  into  which  Lot's  wife  was  turned  (Gen, 
19:  26),  for  her  looking  back  with  a  covetous  heart  w^en  she  was 
going  from  Sodom  for  safety.  Which  sudden  and  amazing  sight  gave 
them  occasion  of  this  discourse. 

Chr.  Ah,  my  brother !  this  is  a  seasonable  sight ;  it  came 
opportunely  to  us  after  the  invitation  which  Demas  gave  us  to  come 
over  to  view  the  hill  Lucre  ;  and,  had  we  gone  over  as  he  desired 
us,  and  as  thou  wast  inclined  to  do,  my  brother,  we  had,  for  aught  I 
know,  been  made,  like  this  woman,  ourselves  a  spectacle  for  those 
that  shall  come  after  to  behold. 

Hope.  I  am  sorry  that  I  was  so  foolish,  and  am  made  to  wonder 
that  I  am  not  now  as  Lot's  wife  ;  for  wherein  was  the  difference 
betwixt  her  sin  and  mine  ?  She  only  looked  back,  and  I  had  a 
desire  to  eo  see.  Let  erace  be  adored,  and  let  me  be  ashamed  that 
ever  such  a  thing  should  be  in  mine  heart. 

Chr.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here  for  our  help  for 
time  to  come  :  this  woman  escaped  one  judgment,  for  she  fell  not 
by  the  destruction  of  Sodom,  yet  she  was  destroyed  by  another;  as 
we  see,  she  is  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt. 

Hope.  True,  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and  example — 
caution,  that  we  should  shun  her  sin  ;  or  a  sign  of  what  judgment 
will  overtake  such  as  shall  not  be  prevented  by  this  caution.  So 
Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram,  with  the  two  hundred  and  fift\^  men 
that  perished  in  their  sin,  did  also  become  a  sign  or  example  to 
others  to  beware  (Numb.  26  :  9,  10).  But  above  all,  I  muse  at  one 
thing,  to  wit,  how  Demas  and  his  fellows  can  stand  so  confidently 
yonder  to  look  for  that  treasure,  which  this  woman,  but  for  looking 
behind  her  after  (for  we  read  not  that  she  stepped  one  foot  out  of 
the  way),  was  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt  specially  since  the  judg- 
ment which  overtook  her  did  make  her  an  example  within  sight  of 
where  they  are ;  for  they  cannot  choose  but  see  her,  did  they  but 
lift  up  their  eyes. 


told   in    its  inscription  :  "  Remember    Lot's 
wife." 

The  sight  of  this  memorial  on  the  wayside 
is  "  seasonable."  It  tends  to  justify  Chris- 
ti^n's  recent  advice  to  Hopeful  respecting 
the  Silver  Mine.  It  also  furnishes  a  timely 
admonition  in  advance  of  dangers  yet  to 
come — admonition  that  is  much  needed,  as 


the  sequel  will  shortly  prove.  It  is  a  witness, 
too,  set  up  full  in  view  of  the  tempting  snare 
beside  which  Dkmas  stands;  and  thus  it  is, 
that  against  lij^ht  and  against  knowledge,  in 
spite  of  caution  and  example,  men  arc 
drawn  aside  by  worldly  lust,  and  turn  away 
from  the  path  of  righteousness,  and  never 
enter  into  rest ! 


182 


The  Pilgrim  s  Pj- ogress. 


Chk.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth  that  their 
heart  is  grown  desperate  in  that  case ;  and  I  cannot  tell  whom  to 
compare  them  to  so  fitly  as  to  them  that  pick  pockets  in  the  presence 
of  the  judge,  or  that  will  cut  purses  under  the  gallows.  It  is  said 
of  the  men  of  Sodom  that  "they  were  sinners  exceedingly,"  because 
they  were  sinners  "before  the  Lord,"  that  is,  in  his  eye-sight,  and 
notwithstanding  the  kindnesses  that  he  had  showed  them  ;  for  the 
land  of  Sodom  was  now  like  the  garden  of  Eden  heretofore  (Gen. 
13:  10-13).  This  therefore  provoked  him  the  more  to  jealousy, 
and  made  their  plague  as  hot  as  the  fire  of  the  Lord  out  of  heaven 
could  make  it.  And  it  is  most  rationally  to  be  concluded  that  such, 
even  such  as  these  are,  that  shall  sin  in  the  sight,  yea.  and  that  too 
in  despite  of  such  examples  that  are  set  continually  before  them  to 
caution  them  to  the  contrary,  must  be  partakers  of  severest  judg- 
ments. 

Hope.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth  ;  but  what  a  mercy  is 
it  that  neither  thou,  but  especially  I  am  not  made  myself  this  exam- 
ple !  This  ministereth  occasion  to  us  to  thank  God,  to  fear  before 
him,  and  always  to  remember    Lot's  wife. 


Thus  are  we  enabled  to  see  the  dififerent 
kinds  of  destruction  that  fall  upon  men,  for 
different  reasons,  and  at  different  stages  of  the 
journey.  There  are  some  who  continue  in 
the  City  of  Destruction, and  shall  be  destroyed 
there  in  the  overthrow  of  the  city.  There 
are  others  v/ho,  having  set  out,  vill  still 
linger  and  look  back ;  and,  though  half 
way  towa.a  i.0M,  shall  be  turned  into  mon- 


uments of  wrath.  It  is  thus  that  men  do 
ofttimes  perish — not  in  the  overthrow  of 
doomed  cities,  not  in  the  multitude  of  the 
ungodly,  but  alone,  in  their  very  flight,  in 
their  lingering  love  for  the  things  they  have 
left  behind ;  as  Israel  looked  back  and 
longed  after  Egypt,  and  "  their  carcasses  fell 
in  the  wilderness." 


CHAPTER  XV. 


Doubting  Castle  and  Giant  Despair. 

The  path  of  the  Christian  Pilgrims  is  laid  through  a  varied  country — through  ups 
and  downs,  through  hills  and  hollows,  through  night  and  day,  through  twihght  and  shadow, 
through  sunrise  and  sunset,  through  clouds  and  darkness,  through  all  sorts  of  diversified 
experiences — through  all  the  manifold  phases  of  spiritual  life.  A  remarkable  illustration 
of  this  character  of  the  pilgrimage  occurs  in  this  chapter — ranging,  as  its  narrative  does, 
from  the  sweet  refreshment  of  the  "  River  of  God,"  and  the  cool  shade  and  pleasant 
fruits  and  healing  leaves  of  its  goodly  trees,  to  the  gloomy  dungeon  of  Despair  and  all  its 
dread  associations.  A  bright  morning  of  spiritual  enjoyment  merges  into  a  day  of  danger, 
and  through  a  darkening  twilight  sets  in  the  very  midnight  of  despair. 

5^^^^f  SAW  then,  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a  pleasant  river, 
which  David  the  king  called  "the  river  of  God  ;"  but  John, 
"  the  river  of  the  water  of  life"  (Ps.  46:  4;  65:  9;  Ezek,  47:  i- 
9;  Rev.  22:  i).  Now  their  way  lay  just  upon  the  bank  of  the 
river;  here  therefore  Christian  and  his  companion  walked 
with  great  delight.  They  drank  also  of  the  water  of  the  river,  which 
was  pleasant,  and  enlivening  to  their  weary  spirits.  Besides,  on  the 
banks  of  this  river,  on  either  side,  were  green  trees  for  all  manner  of 
fruit ;  and  the  leaves  they  ate  to  prevent  surfeits,  and  other  diseases 
that  are  incident  to  those  that  heat  their  blood  by  travels.  On  either 
side  of  the  river  was  also  a  meadow,  curiously  beautified  with  lilies; 
and  it  was  green  all  the  year  long.  In  this  meadow  they  lay  down  and 
slept;  for  here  they  might  lie  down  safely  (Ps.  23:  2;  Isa.  14:30).  When 
they  awoke  they  gathered  again  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees,  and  drank 


The  river  of  God. — Once  more  are  the 
Pilgrims  comforted.  The  wayside  dangers 
and  temptations  have  been  surmounted  ; 
profitable  lessons  have  been  learned ;  and 
now  they  need  the  comforts  of  the  Spirit  to 
refresh  their  soul.  Accordingly,  they  are 
now  led  beside  the  still  waters  of  comfort, 
beneath  the  grateful  shade  of  the  leafy  trees 
which  grow  by  the  river-bank,  and  bear  all 
manner  of  fruits  for  food  and  medicine 
This  is  a  pleasant  land — a  land  of  meadows 
and  green  pastures,  of  fruits  and  flowers — 


"  Where  peaceful  rivers,  soft  and  slow, 
Amidst  the  verdant  landscape  flow." 

Here  they  might  He  down  safely. — So  they 
lay  down  and  slept.  All  places  are  not 
sleeping-places  for  pilgrims  ;  but  beside  the 
river  of  God,  and  surrounded  by  the  com- 
forts and  consolations  of  the  Spirit,  they  may 
lay  them  down  in  peace,  and  take  their 
rest.  This  was  a  place  of  high  festival,  a 
feast  of  fat  things,  a  season  of  special  privi- 
lege. And  it  is  well  that  such  seasons  are 
accorded.     They  come  like  sunshine  after 


(183) 


184 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


THE  RIVER  OF  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE. 

again  of  the  water  of  the  river,  and  then  lay  down  again  to  sleep. 
Thus  they  did  several  days  and  nights.     Then  they  sang  : 

Behold  ye  how  these  crystal  streams  do  glide, 

To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway-side. 

The  meadows  green,  besides  their  fragrant  smell, 

Yield  dainties  for  them;  and  he  that  can  tell 

What  pleasant  fruit,  yea,  leaves,  these  trees  do  yield, 

Will  soon  sell  all  that  he  may  buy  this  field. 

So  when  they  were  disposed  to  go  on  (for  they  were  not  as  yet 
at  their  journey's  end),  they  ate,  and  drank,  and  departed. 


rain,  and  sometimes  in  advance  of  danger, 
like  the  opportune  provision  made  for  the 
prophet,  when  the  angel  touched  him,  and 
said:  "Arise  and  eat ;  because  the  journey 


is  too  great  for  thee"  (i  Kings  19  ;  7).  And 
it  was  well  that  our  Pilgrims  did  thus  enl 
and  drink,  for  in  the  strength  of  that  food 
they  must  go  yet  many  days. 


By-path  Meadow. 


185 


Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  diat  they  had  not  journeyed  fai, 
but  the  river  and  the  way  for  a  time  parted  ;  at  which  they  were  not 
a  litde  sorry,  yet  they  durst  not  go  out  of  the  way.  Now  the  way 
from  the  river  was  rough,  and  their  feet  tender  by  reason  ot  their 
travels ;  so  the  souls  of  the  pilgrims  were  much  "  discouraged  be- 
cause of  the  way"  (Numb.  21  :  4).  Wherefore  still  as  they  went  on 
they  wished  for  a  better  way.  Now  a  little  before  them,  there  was 
on  the  left  hand  of  the  road  a  meadow,  and  a  stile  to  go  over  into  it, 
and  that  meadow  is  called  By-path  Meadow.  Then  said  Christian 
to  his  fellow.  If  this  meadow  lieth  along  by  our  wayside,  let  us  go 
over  into  it.  Then  he  went  to  the  stile  to  see,  and  behold  a  path  lay 
along  by  the  way  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  It  is  according  to 
my  wish,  said  Christian  ;  here  is  the  easiest  going ;  come,  good 
Hopeful,  and  let  us  go  over. 

Hope.    But  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  of  the  way? 

That  is  not  likely,  said  the  other.  Look,  doth  it  not  go  along 
by  the  wayside  ?  So  Hopeful,  being  persuaded  by  his  fellow,  went 
after  him  over  the  stile.  When  they  were  gone  over,  and  were  got 
into  the  path,  they  found  it  very  easy  for  their  feet;  and  withal,  they 
looking  before  them  espied  a  man  walking  as  they  did,  and  his  name 
was  Vain-Confidence  ;  so  they  called  after  him,  and  asked  whither 
that  way  led.  He  said,  To  the  Celestial  Gate.  Look,  said  Christian, 
did  not  I  tell  you  so?  by  this  you  may  see  we  are  right.  So  they 
followed,  and  he  went  before  them.     But  behold  the  night  came  on, 


The  river  and  the  way  parted. — The  path 
does  not  continue  parallel  to  the  river-bank 
all  the  way  ;  nor  is  it  always  covered  with 
the  grassy  mead.  There  are  times  of  with- 
drawal from  the  refreshing  waters,  when 
faith  again  is  tried,  and  is  still  put  upon 
probation.  If  pilgrims  had  their  own  way, 
they  would,  no  doubt,  build  themselves  tab- 
ernacles in  the  pleasant  places  of  the  pil- 
grimage ;  but  no,  "  they  are  not  yet  at  their 
journey's  end  ;"  and  once  more  they  must 
endure  hardness. 

As  the  path  diverges  from  the  river,  it  be- 
comes rough  and  rugged.  Seasons  of  com- 
fort give  place  to  seasons  of  trial ;  and  they 
that  have  gone  softly  must  now  bear  the 
flints,  and  patiently  endure  the  ruggedness 
of  the  road.  This  is  hard  for  flesh  and 
blood  to  bear ;  and  the  natural  man  sighs 
after  an  easier  lot  and  a  fairer  heritage. 


A  meadow  and  a  stile. — This  field  was  not 
the  meadow  of  the  river-bank.  It  was  By- 
path Meadow.  A  stile  separates  it  from  the 
beaten  track,  so  that  the  Pilgrims  must  go 
somewhat  out  of  their  way  in  order  to  pass 
from  the  one  to  the  other.  Their  impatience 
of  the  road,  and  their  desire  for  ease,  sur- 
prised them  to  this  divergence,  and  the 
tempting  nature  of  the  meadow-land  de- 
ceived them.  They  saw  its  beginning,  buf 
they  did  not  see  its  destination.  Thus  does 
the  tempter  blind  our  eyes.  The  moss- 
gr  wn  meadow,  with  its  pleasant  path  and 
its  seeming  parallel,  entices  the  Pilgrims 
from  the  road,  and  becomes  the  beginning 
of  sorrows. 

He  went  to  the  stile  to  see. — There  is  dan 
ger  in  a  too  close  inspection  of  temptation. 
These  Pilgrims  stoutly  resisted  the  invitation 
of  Demas  to  go  and  oee  the  Silver  Mine  ;  but 


180 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


and  it  grew  very  dark ;  so  that  they  that  were  behind  lost  the  sight 
of  him  that  went  before. 

He  therefore  that  went  before  (Vain-Confidence  by  name),  not 
seeing  the  way  before  him,  fell  into  a  deep  pit,  which  was  on  purpose 
there  made  by  the  prince  of  those  grounds  to  catch  vainglorious 
fools  withal,  and  was  dashed  in  pieces  by  his  fall  (Isa.  9  :  16). 

Now  Christian  and  his  fellow  heard  him  fall ;  so  they  called  to 
know  the  matter;  but  there  was  none  to  answer,  only  they  heard 
a  groaning.  Then  said  Hopeful,  Where  are  we  now?  Then  was 
his  fellow  silent,  as  mistrusting  that  he  had  led  him  out  of  the 
way ;  and  now  it  began  to  rain,  and  thunder,  and  lighten  in  a  very 
dreadful  manner;  and  the  water  rose  amain. 

Then  Hopeful  groaned  in  himself,  saying,  Oh,  that  I  had  kept 
on  my  way ! 

Chr.  Who  would  have  thought  that  this  path  should  have  led 
us  out  of  the  way  ? 

Hope.  I  was  afraid  on't  at  the  very  first,  and  therefore  gave  you 
that  gentle  caution.  I  would  have  spoken  plainer,  but  that  you  are 
older  than  I. 

Chr.  Good  brother,  be  not  offended  ;  I  am  sorry  I  have  brought 
thee  out  of  the  way,  and  that  I  have  put  thee  into  such  imminent 
danger ;  pray,  my  brother,  forgive  me  ;  I  did  not  do  it  of  an  evil 
intent. 

Hope.  Be  comforted,  my  brother,  for  I  forgive  thee;  and  believe 
too  that  this  shall  be  for  our  good. 

Chr.  I  am  glad  I  have  with  me  a  merciful  brother ;  but  we 
must  not  stand  here ;  let  us  try  to  go  back  again. 

Hope.    But,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

Chr.  No,  if  you  please,  let  me  go  first,  that  if  there  be  any 
danger  I  may  be  first  therein ;  because  by  my  means  we  are  both 
gone  out  of  the  way. 


now,  at  the  suggestion  of  his  own  heart, 
Christian  must  needs  go  and  see  this  By- 
path ;  and  in  going  and  seeing,  he  falls  in- 
to the  snare,  and  misleads  his  brother  also. 
Vain- Confidence. — This  indicates  the  spirit 
that  prompted  the  Pilgrims  to  so  wilful 
a  departure  from  the  right  way.  "When 
Vain-Confidence  assumes  the  leadership, 
and  is  followed,  there  is  certain  danger,  and 
an  inevitable  downfall  must  ensue.  Vain- 
Confidence  persuades  men  coutrary  to  their 


better  teaching.  They  wish  to  escape  the 
toil  and  travail  of  the  road.  Their  practice 
then  takes  the  direction  of  their  wishes ; 
their  prejudice  perverts  their  judgment; 
they  lean  to  their  own  understanding,  and 
ere  long  they  reap  the  consequences. 

Where  are  we  no%v  ? — Hopeful  had 
gently  cautioned  Christian  as  to  the  pos- 
sible danger  of  this  departure  from  the  way. 
He  has  had  his  misgivings  all  along,  and  is 
now  the  first  to  break  the  ominous  silence 


Doubling  Castle. 


18? 


No,  said  Hopeful,  you  shall  not  go  first;  for  your  mind  being 
tiroubled  may  lead  you  out  of  the  way  again.  Then,  for  their  en« 
couragement,  they  heard  the  voice  of  one  saying,  "Let  thine  heart 
be  toward  the  highway;  even  the  way  that  thou  wentest  turn  again" 
(Jer  31  :  21).  But  by  this  time  the  waters  were  greatly  risen,  by 
reason  of  which  the  way  of  i^oing  back  was  very  dangerous.  Then 
I  thought  that  it  is  easier  going  out  of  the  way,  when  we  are  in,  than 
going  in  when  we  are  out.  Yet  they  adventured  to  go  back;  but 
it  was  so  dark,  and  the  flood  was  so  high,  that  in  their  going  back 
they  had  like  to  have  been  drowned  nine  or  ten  times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the  skill  they  had,  get  again  to  the 
stile  that  night.  Wherefore,  at  last  lighting  under  a  little  shelter, 
they  sat  down  there  till  day-break;  but  being  weary  they  fell  asleep. 
Now  there  was  not  far  from  the  place  where  they  lay  a  castle,  called 
Doubting  Castle,  the  owner  whereof  was  Giant  Despair ;  and  it  was 
on  his  grounds  they  now  were  sleeping.  Wherefore  he,  getting  up 
in  the  morning  early,  and  walking  up  and  down  in  his  fields,  caught 
Christian  and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his  grounds.  Then  with  a  grim  and 
surly  voice  he  bid  them  awake,  and  asked  them  whence  they  were, 
and  what  they  did  in  his  grounds.  They  told  him  they  were  pil- 
grims, and  that  they  had  lost  their  way.  Then  said  the  Giant,  You 
have  this  night  trespassed  on  me,  by  trampling  in,  and  lying  on,  my 
ground,  and  therefore  you  must  go  along  with  me.  So  they  were 
forced  to  go,  because  he  was  stronger  than  they.  They  also  had  but 
little  to  say,  for  they  knew  themselves  in  a  fault.     The  Giant  there- 


of the  scene — "Where  are  we?"  Yes;  it 
was  dark,  and  danger  lay  ahead,  and  into 
that  danger  their  false  leader  has  already 
fallen,  beyond  their  vision,  but  within  their 
hearing.  Here  Chkistian  is  the  more  guilty 
of  the  twain,  and  he  sorely  feels  his  folly  and 
his  sin,  and  feels  it  all  the  more  acutely, 
because,  through  his  ill  advice,  another  is 
involved  in  peril.  And  yet  it  is  from  Hope- 
ful he  receives  the  consolation  of  me  mo- 
ment ;  for,  true  to  his  name,  he  is  enaoled, 
in  the  hopefulness  of  his  heart,  to  see  through 
the  danger,  and  even  ventures  to  believe 
•'  that  this  shall  be  for  good." 

They  fell  asleep. —  It  seems  strange  that 
they  should  thus  have  slept  in  the  midst  of 
such  deadly  peril.  This  is  the  reaction  of 
the  soul,  wearied  by  its  transgression,  and 
worn   out  by  the  subsequent  conflict  with 


the  storms,  and  tempests,  and  buffetings  of 
conscience  that  pursue  the  transgressor  to 
the  very  precincts  of  doubt  and  desperation. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  settling  down  at 
ease  in  the  midst  of  danger;  the  lulling  of 
the  conscience  into  peace  when  there  is  no 
peace ;  the  encouragement  of  the  spirit  of 
slumber  on  the  very  borders  of  despair. 
Who  shall  awake  the  sleepers  ? 

Doubting  Castle — Giant  Despair. — What 
a  progression  of  disaster !  From  the  easy 
stile  and  tempting  meadow  land,  through 
the  by-path  of  an  unbidden  departure  from 
the  road,  the  Pilgrims  go  on  from  bad  to 
worse,  until  they  find  themselves  in  the 
strong  captivity  of  Doubt,  and  under  the 
grinding  tyranny  of  Despair.  Christian 
had  seen  a  representation  of  this  spiritual 
woe  in  she  Iron  Cage  in  the  Interpreter's 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  IN  THE  CASTLE  UF  GIANT  DESPAIR. 

188 


Advice  of  Diffidence, 


189 


fore  drove  them  before  him,  and  put  them  into  his  castle,  in  a  very 
dark  dung-eon,  nasty  and  stinking-  to  the  spirits  of  these  two  men. 
Mere  then  they  lay,  from  Wednesday  morning  till  Saturday  night, 
without  one  bit  of  bread,  or  drop  of  drink,  or  light,  or  any  to  ask 
how  they  did ;  they  were,  therefore,  nere  in  evil  case,  and  were  far 
from  friends  and  acquaintance  (Ps.  88  :  8).  Now  in  this  place  Chris- 
tian had  double  sorrow,  because  it  was  through  his  unadvised  counsel 
that  they  were  brought  into  this  distress. 

Now  Giant  Despair  had  a  wife,  and  her  name  was  Diffidence ;  so 
when  he  was  gone  to  bed  he  told  his  wife  what  he  had  done ;  to  wit, 
that  he  had  taken  a  couple  of  prisoners,  and  cast  them  into  his  dun- 
geon for  trespassing  on  his  grounds.  Then  he  asked  her  also  what 
he  had  best  do  further  to  them.  So  she  asked  wdiat  they  were, 
whence  they  came,  and  whither  they  were  bound  ;  and  he  told  her. 
Then  she  counselled  him  that  when  he  arose  in  the  morning  he  should 
beat  thcn\  without  mercy.  So  when  he  arose  he  getteth  him  a 
grievous  crab-tree  cudgel,  and  goes  down  into  the  dungeon  to  them, 
and  there  first  falls  to  rating  of  them  as  if  they  were  dogs,  although 
they  never  gave  him  a  word  of  distaste  ;  then  he  falls  upon  them  and 
beats  them  fearfully,  in  such  sort  that  they  were  not  able  to  help 
themselves,  or  to  turn  them  upon  the  floor.  This  done,  he  withdraws 
and  leaves  them  there  to  condole  their  misery,  and  to  mourn  under 
their  distress;  so  all  that  day  they  spent  the  time  in  nothing  but  sighs 
and  bitter  lamentations.  The  next  night,  she  talking  with  her  husband 
further  about  them,  and  understanding  that  they  were  yet  alive,  did 
advise  him  to  counsel  them  to  make  away  with  themselves.  So  when 
morning  was  come  he  goes  to  them  in  a  surly  manner  as  before,  and 


house ;  he  had  experienced  much  of  its 
gloom  and  misery  in  his  own  person  in  the 
Vale  of  Death  ;  and  now  he  is  appointed  to 
pass  through  another  season  of  horror  and 
great  darkness  in  the  dungeons  of  Despair, 
aggravated  by  the  thought  that  he  and  his 
comrade  had  but  themselves  to  blame  for 
the  transgression  which  had  brought  them 
there. 

This  is  a  phase  of  spiritual  experience 
that  Bunyan  had  felt  in  his  own  person  ; 
and  one  that  is  also  felt  by  many  who  are 
brought  by  wilful  sin  and  disobedience  into 
:;hese  low  depressions  of  conscience.  This 
s  a  season  of  spiritual  hunger,  without  any 
spiritual   food :    of  spiritual   thirst,  without 


any  of  the  waters  of  life  ;  of  spiritual  dark- 
ness, without  a  single  ray  of  heaven's  own 
light ;  of  spiritual  loneliness  and  bondage, 
without  company  or  communion  of  Christian 
men  Marvellous  contrasts  to  the  peace 
and  blessedness  of  the  morning  of  that  day, 
by  the  waters  of  comfort  and  the  fruits  and 
flowers  of  the  meadow-land  ! 

"Yet  clouds  will  intervene. 
And  all  my  prospect  flies  ; 
Like  Noah's  dove,  I  flit  between 
Rough  seas  and  stormy  skies." 

Diffidence. — This  was  the  Giant's  wife: 
too  gentle  a  name,  perhaps,  for  one  who' 
proves  herself  to  be  as  harsh,  as  cruel,  and 
as  unrelenting  in  her  wrath  as  Giant  Ds- 


190 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


perceiving  them  to  be  very  sore  with  the  stripes  that  he  had  given 
them  the  day  before,  he  told  them  that,  since  they  were  never  like  to 
come  out  of  that  place,  their  only  way  would  be  forthwith  to  make 
an  end  of  themselves,  either  with  knife,  halter,  or  poison  ;  for  why, 
said  he,  should  you  choose  life,  seeing  it  is  attended  with  so  much 
bitterness  ?  But  they  desired  him  to  let  them  go  ;  with  that  he  looked 
ugly  upon  them,  and,  rushing  to  them,  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of 
them  himself,  but  that  he  fell  into  one  of  his  fits  (for  he  sometimes  in 
sunshiny  weather  fell  into  fits),  and  lost  for  a  time  the  use  of  his 
hands.  Wherefore  he  withdrew,  and  left  them  as  before  to  consider 
what  to  do.  Then  did  the  prisoners  consult  between  themselves 
whether  it  was  best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no ;  and  thus  they  began 
to  discourse : 

Brother,  said  Christian,  what  shall  we  do  ?  The  life  that  we  now 
live  is  miserable ;  for  my  part,  I  know  not  whether  it  is  best  to  live 
thus,  or  die  out  of  hand  :  "  my  soul  chooseth  strangling  and  death 
rather  than  life"  (Job  7:  15),  and  the  grave  is  more  easy  for  me 
than  this  dungeon.     Shall  we  be  ruled  by  the  giant? 

Hope.  Indeed,  our  present  condition  is  dreadful,  and  death 
would  be  far  more  welcome  to  me  than  thus  for  ever  to  abide ;  but 
yet  let  us  consider,  the  Lord  of  the  country  to  which  we  are  going 
hath  said,  "Thou  shalt  do  no  murder;"  no,  not  to  another  man's  per- 
son; much  more,  then,  are  we  forbidden  to  take  his  counsel  to  kill 
ourselves.  Besides,  he  that  kills  another  can  but  commit  murder 
upon  his  body;  but  for  one  to  kill  himself,  is  to  kill  body  and  soul  at 
once.  And,  moreover,  my  brother,  thou  talkest  of  ease  in  the  grave, 
but  hast  thou  forofotten  the  hell  whither  for  certain  the  murderers  gfo  ? 
for  "  no  murderer  hath  eternal  life,"  etc.  And  let  us  consider  again, 
that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the  hand  of  Giant  Despair ;  others,  as  far  as 


SPAIR  himself.  Dr.  Cheever  very  well  ob- 
serves that  "  Mrs.  Diffidence  ought  rather  to 
have  been  called  Dame  Desperation,  or 
Desperate  Resolution ;  for  she  seems,  if 
anything,  the  more  stubborn  genius  of  the 
two." 

The  night  season  is  that  selected  for  the 
counsels  of  Diffidence  and  Despair  con- 
cerning their  treatment  of  the  Pilgrims.  It 
is  in  the  hours  of  darkness  that  the  sorrows 
of  the  soul  are  most  intense,  and  the  spirit 
of  despair  takes  a  more  vigorous  grasp  of 
the  troubled  conscience;  just  as,  on  the 
glher  hand,  it  is  in  the  hour  of  sunshine 


("the  sunshiny  weather")  that  Giant  De- 
spair is  reft  of  his  strength  and  spoiled  of 
his  power;  and  opportunity  is  thereby  al- 
lowed, in  the  interval,  for  the  friendly  coun- 
sels of  Christian  and  Hopeful. 

Brother,  what  sha  'I  wc  do  .^—Gloomy  and 
dark  thoughts  fill  the  mind  of  Christian. 
He  seems  harder  put  to  it  here  than  ever 
before.  He  broods  over  the  suggestions  (») 
Despaik,  and  meditates  release  by  untimely 
and  unbidden  means,  even  by  his  own  hand 
—  by  suicide.  How  the  man  must  have 
been  possessed  of  the  spirit  of  Despair, 
under  the  galling  yoke  of  doubts  that  wouki 


Hopeful  comforts   Christian, 


191 


I  can  understand,  have  been  taken  by  him  as  well  as  we,  and  yet 
have  escaped  out  of  his  hands.  Who  knows  but  that  God,  who 
made  the  world,  may  cause  that  Giant  Despair  may  die,  or  that  at 
some  time  or  other  he  may  forget  to  lock  us  in ;  or  that  he  may  in  a 
short  time  have  another  of  his  fits  before  us,  and  may  lose  the  use  of 
his  limbs  ?  and  if  ever  that  should  come  to  pass  again,  for  my  part  I 
am  resolved  to  pluck  up  the  heart  of  a  man,  and  to  try  my  utmost 
to  get  from  under  his  hand.  I  was  a  fool  that  I  did  not  try  to  do  it 
before ;  but,  however,  my  brother,  let  us  be  patient  and  endure 
a  while  ;  the  time  may  come  that  may  give  us  a  happy  release;  but 
let  us  not  be  our  own  murderers.  With  these  words  fiopeful  at  pres- 
ent did  moderate  the  mind  of  his  brother  ;  so  they  continued  together, 
in  the  dark,  that  day  in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition. 

Well,  towards  evening  the  Giant  goes  down  into  the  dungeon 
again,  to  see  if  his  prisoners  had  taken  his  counsel ;  but  when  he 
came  there  he  found  them  alive ;  and,  truly,  alive  was  all.  For  now, 
what  for  want  of  bread  and  water,  and  by  reason  of  the  wounds  they 
received  when  be  beat  them,  they  could  do  little  but  breathe.  But, 
I  say,  he  found  them  alive;  at  which  he  fell  into  a  grievous  rage,  and 
told  them  that,  seeing  they  had  disobeyed  his  counsel,  it  should  be 
worse  with  them  than  if  they  had  never  been  born. 

At  this  they  trembled  gready,  and  I  think  that  Christian  fell  into 
a  swoon;  but  coming  a  little  to  himself  again,  they  renewed  their  dis- 
course about  the  Giant's  counsel,  and  whether  yet  they  had  best  take 
it  or  no.  Now  Christian  again  seemed  to  be  for  doing  it,  but  Hope- 
ful made  his  second  reply  as  followeth. 

My  brother,  said  he,  rememberest  thou  not  how  valiant  thou  hast 
been  heretofore  ?     ApoUyon  could  not  crush  thee,  nor  could  all  that 


not    be   solved,    and    of    desperation    that 
would  not  be  comforted  ! 

Hopeful's  answer  to  his  brother  was 
worthy  of  the  man.  He,  the  younger  and 
the  weaker  of  the  two,  is  now  the  adviser  of 
better  things  and  the  counsellor  of  better 
purposes  He  first  dissipates  these  thoughts 
of  self-murder,  and  will  not  permit  them  to 
be  entertained  at  all.  God's  law,  self-inter 
est,  and  future  judgment — all  cry  out  against 
the  cowardice  of  the  man  who  flees  as  a 
fugitive  from  life,  and  presents  himself  un- 
bidden at  the  bar  of  God.  This  point  gained, 
Hopeful  even  ventures  to  lift  the  dark  cur- 
tain, and  to  picture  the  possibility  of  a  bright 


prospect  beyond :  the  Giant  may  die,  or 
may  sometime  forget  his  prey,  or  may  abate 
his  watchful  vigilance,  and  thus  leave  a  way 
of  escape  open  to  them.  Such  are  ever  the 
comforts  of  Hope  in  the  very  darkest  mo- 
ments of  Despair. 

The  conflict,  however,  continues ;  the 
darkness  is  as  yet  unrelieved  by  the  dawn 
of  light.  Christian  falls  again  beneath 
the  frenzy  of  the  Giant  and  meditates  once 
more  the  surrender  of  self,  and  life,  and  all,  at 
his  suggestion.  Hopeful  again  comes  to 
the  rescue !  This  time  he  tries  the  power 
of  retrospect,  and  bids  his  brother  to  call 
to  mind  the  days  of  the  past,  and  the  scenes 


192 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


thou  didst  hear,  or  see, or  feel  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death; 
what  hardship,  terror  and  amazement  has  thou  already  gone  through, 
a  id  art  thou  now  nothing  but  fears  ?  Thou  seest  that  I  am  in  the 
d.mgeon  with  thee,  a  far  weaker  man  by  nature  than  thou  art ;  also 
tlus  giant  has  wounded  me  as  well  as  thee,  and  hath  also  cut  off  the 
bread  and  water  from  my  mouth,  and  with  thee  I  mourn  without  the 
light.  But  let  us  exercise  a  little  more  patience  ;  remember  how  thou 
playedst  the  man  at  Vanity  Fair,  and  was  neither  afraid  of  the  chain 
nor  cage,  nor  yet  of  bloody  death  ;  wherefore  let  us,  at  least  to  avoid 
the  shame  that  becomes  not  a  Christian  to  be  found  in,  bear  up  with 
patience  as  well  as  we  can. 

Now  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his  wife  being 
in  bed,  she  asked  him  concerning  the  prisoners,  and  if  they  had  taken 
his  counsel.  To  which  he  replied.  They  are  sturdy  rogues,  they 
choose  rather  to  bear  all  hardships  than  to  make  away  with  them- 
selves. Then  said  she.  Take  them  into  the  castle-yard  to-morrow, 
and  show  them  the  bones  and  skulls  of  those  that  thou  hast  already 
despatched,  and  make  them  believe,  ere  a  week  comes  to  an  end, 
thou  wilt  tear  them  in  pieces,  as  thou  hast  done  their  fellows  before 
them. 

So  when  the  morning  was  come  the  Giant  goes  to  them  again, 
and  takes  them  into  the  castle-yard,  and  shows  them  as  his  wife  had 
bidden  him.  These,  said  he,  were  pilgrims,  as  you  are,  once,  and  they 
trespassed  on  my  grounds,  as  you  "have  done  ;  and  when  I  thought 
fit  I  tore  them  in  pieces,  and  so  within  ten  days  I  will  do  you  ;  go, 


of  his  bygone  triumphs,  and  still  to  play 
the  man.  Heroes  that  have  fought  and  won 
great  battle-fields  must  not  thus  lightly  allow 
themselves  to  be  overcome.  The  hero  of  the 
Valley  of  Humiliation,  who  fought  against 
Apollyon,  and  prevailed  ;  that  patient  Pil- 
grim who  trod  every  dark  step  and  dared 
every  dangerous  pass  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death  ;  that  valiant  heart  that  scorned  the 
dangers  of  Vanity  Fair,  and  uttered  his  pro- 
test in  the  face  of  fire  and  fagot— surely  he 
knows  better  how  to  fight  than  thus  cowardly 
to  yield  !  Aye,  and  even  by  comparison  with 
himself  doth  Hopeful  rally  his  despairing 
comrade — Thou  strong  man  and  brave 
warrior  of  the  Cross,  behold  7nt\  a  weaker 
man  than  thou  art !  I  too  am  wounded, 
weary  of  the  strife,  hungry,  thirsty,  dark 
and  comfortless  as  thou  ;    and  yet  withal  I 


am  thy  comforter — preaching  to  thee  that 
thou  shouldst  live  through  this  deep  sorrow, 
and  outlive  this  anxious  struggle,  and  con- 
tinue in  the  spirit  of  patience  and  endurance 
to  the  end  !  Brave  words,  good  Hopeful, 
and  yet  braver  deeds,  thou  man  of  God ! 
He  speaks  out  of  his  own  darkness  and 
dread  uncertainty,  and  yet  he  speaks  in 
words  of  comfort  and  in  the  fulness  of  his 
hope. 

"  I  know  not  what  nday  soon  betide, 
Or  liow  my  wants  shall  be  supplied: 
But  Jesus  Knows,  and  will  provide!  ' 

Thus  the  tide  of  Despair  is  stayed,  and 
all  the  threats  of  Doubting  Castle  are  held 
at  bay.  Hopeful  stands  in  the  gap,  and 
stays  his  desponding  brother.  The  con- 
tinued resistance  of  the  Pilgrims  now  further 
provokes  the  angered   spirit  of  the  Giant, 


Doubting  Castle. 


193 


*MIUM\ 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  ESCAPE  FROM  DOUBTING  CASTLE. 


get  you  down  to  your  den  again.  And 
the  way  thither.  They  lay  therefore 
lamentable  case,  as  before.  Now,  when 
Mrs.  Diffidence  and  her  husband  the  G 
began  to  renew  their  discourse  of  their 
Giant  wondered  that  he  could  neither  by 
them  to  an   end.      And  with  that  his  wi 


with  that  he  beat  them  all 
all    day  on    Saturday  in   a 

nioht  was  come,  and  when 
iant  were  got  to  bed,  they 

prisoners ;  and,  withal,  the 
his  blows  nor  counsel  bring 
fe  replied,  I  fear,  said  she, 


and  he  seeks  by  more  demonstrative  efforts 
to  drive  them  to  destruction.  In  the  castle- 
yard  are  the  bones  of  former  victims  of 
Despair.  The  Pilgrims  shuddered  at  the 
sight,  and  trembled  all  the  more  at  the  angry 
threats  now  thundered  forth  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Giant. 
18 


This  was  Saturday — the  end  of  a  weary 
week,  four  days  of  which  had  been  already 
spent  in  the  dark  dungeon-keep.  A  new 
spirit  now  possesses  the  imprisoned  Pilgrims 
— "they  begin  to  pray."  Their  prayer  was 
like  the  wresthng  of  Jacob  ;  it  continued  all 
night,  even  to  the  break  of  day  ;  and  that 


194 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


that  they  live  in  hopes  that  some  will  come  to  relieve  them,  or  that 
they  have  pick-locks  about  them,  by  the  means  of  which  they  hope 
to  escape.  And  sayest  thou  so,  my  dear,  said  the  Giant ;  I  will 
therefore  search  them  in  the  morning". 

Well,  on  Saturday  about  midnight  they  began  to  pray,  and  con- 
tinued in  prayer  till  almost  break  of  day. 

Now  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one  half 
amazed,  brake  out  in  this  passionate  speech :  What  a  fool,  quoth  he, 
am  I,  thus  to  lie  in  a  stinking  dungeon  when  I  may  as  well  walk  at 
liberty  ;  I  have  a  key  in  my  bosom  called  Promise,  that  will,  I  am 
persuaded,  open  any  lock  in  Doubting  Castle.  Then,  said  Hopeful, 
that's  good  news,  good  brother,  pluck  it  out  of  thy  bosom,  and  try. 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and  began  to  try  at 
the  dungeon  door,  whose  bolt  as  he  turned  the  key  gave  back,  and 
the  door  flew  open  with  ease,  and  Christian  and  Hopeful  both  came 
out.  Then  he  went  to  the  outer  door  that  leads  into  the  castle-yard, 
and  with  this  key  opened  that  door  also.  After  that  he  went  to  the 
iron  gate  (for  that  must  be  opened  too),  but  that  lock  went  desperately 
hard  ;  yet  the  key  did  open  it.  Then  they  thrust  open  the  gate  to 
make  their  escape  with  speed.  But  that  gate  as  it  opened  made 
such  a  creaking  that  it  waked  Giant  Despair,  who,  hastily  rising  to 
pursue  his  prisoners,  felt  his  limbs  to  fail,  for  his  fits  took  him  again, 
so  that  he  could  by  no  means  go  after  them.  Then  they  went  on, 
and  came  to  the  King's  highway  again,  and  so  were  safe,  because 
they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 


new  day  was  the  Sabbath.  Bunyan  evi- 
dently desires  to  leave  on  record  in  his  im- 
mortal Allegory  some  testimony  in  honor  of 
the  Lord's  day,  and  of  its  blessed  privileges. 
So,  upon  this  day  of  rest,  this  day  of  pecu- 
liar prayer,  he  represents  the  dawn  of  de- 
liverance beaming  upon  the  prisoners  of 
Despair,  who  now  become  "prisoners  of 
Hope."  And  is  it  not  true  that  the  Sabbath 
day,  by  its  holy  rest  and  hallowed  ministra- 
tions of  the  Word  and  prayer,  breaks  many 
a  fetter,  frees  many  a  slave,  dissolves  the 
doubts  of  the  week  past,  and  delivers  many 
a  soul  from  the  bondage  of  Despair  ? 

A  key  called  Promise. — In  prayer  comes  the 
realization  of  the  promises.  Every  prayer 
is  founded  on  a  promise,  and  every  true 
prayer  discovers  this  foundation.  The 
promises  of  God,  all  of  which  are  "  yea  and 


amen  in  Christ  Jesus, "penetrate  every  gloom 
and  look  beyond  the  thickest  darkness. 
The  promises  fringe  the  thunder-cloud  with 
rays  of  light,  and  enable  us  to  discern  the 
"smiling  face"  behind  the  "frowning  provi- 
dence." Promise  sees  the  dawn  from  the 
midnight,  anticipates  the  sunrise  from  the 
sunset,  recognizes  in  the  leafless  trees  and 
cheerless  snows  of  winter  the  harbinger  and 
earnest  of  the  fruits  and  flowers  and  season- 
able enjoyments  of  the  summer-tide.  The 
Key  of  Promise  now  opens  the  doors 
and  iron  gates  of  the  dungeon  of  Doubting 
Castle,  and  delivers  the  Pilgrims  out  of  the 
hands  of  Giant  Despair.  So  they  escaped, 
and  once  more  return  to  the  narrow  way. 

Bunyan's  descriptions  and  delineations 
of  the  doubting  character  of  Christians  con- 
stitute some  of  the  most  striking  and  in- 


The  Pilgrims  escape  from  Doubting  Castle. 


195 


Now,  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  began  to  con- 
trive with  themselves  what  they  should  do  at  that  stile,  to  prevent 
those  that  should  come  after  from  falhng  into  the  hand.^  of  Giant 
Despair.  So  they  consented  to  erect  there  a  pillar,  and  to  engrave 
on  the  side  thereof  this  sentence:  "Over  this  stile  is  the  way  to 
Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair,  who  despiseth  the 
King  of  the  Celestial  country,  and  seeks  to  destroy  his  holy  pil- 
grims." Many  therefore  that  followed  after  read  what  w^as  written, 
and  escaped  the  danger.     This  done,  they  sang  as  follows  : 

Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 

What  'twas  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground  ; 

And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a  care, 

Lest  heedlessness  makes  them  as  we  to  fare  ; 

Lest  they,  for  trespassing,  his  prisoners  are, 

Whose  Castle's  Doubting,  and  whose  name's  Despair. 


.tructive  portions  of  his  writings.  He  had 
oeen  himself  much  exercised  and  tried  by 
doubts  and  fears,  and  even  by  despair;  and 
in  the  school  of  experience  he  learned  the 
great  lesson  he  here  teaches  us.  He  there- 
fore lays  stress  upon  this  feature  of  Christian 
«xperience.     In  his  "  Holy  War  "    he   de- 


scribes a  formidable  force  as  having  been 
sent  against  Mansoul,  consisting  of  "an 
army  of  terrible  doubters."  The  three  great 
divisions  of  this  army  were  (i)  the  election 
doubters ;  (2)  the  vocation  doubters ;  ana 
(3)  the  grace  doubters.  He  further  develops 
this  great  topic  in  the  scene  now  before  us. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Delectable  Mountains. 


The  Pilgrims  have  now  attained  to  an  advanced  stage  of  their  journey,  to  that  point 
of  elevation,  the  distant  prospect  of  which  Christian  had  been  permitted  to  see  from  tiiC 
Palace  Beautiful,  and  of  which  the  fair  sisterhood  of  the  palace  had  informed  him,  saying, 
"When  thou  comest  there,  from  thence  thou  mayest  see  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City." 
Arrived  at  this  point,  Christian  and  his  comrade  are  introduced  to  the  Shepherds  who  fed 
their  Master's  sheep,  and  with  pastoral  care  tended  the  flocks  committed  to  their  charge. 
These  are  the  Delectable  Mountains ;  and  the  country  is  called  Im.manuel's  Land.  The 
Shepherds  are  the  appointed  pastors  of  the  flock  of  God  ;  and  now  for  a  season  our  Pilgrims 
are  confided  to  their  ministration,  for  instruction  and  advice. 

HEY  went  then  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable  Moun- 
tains, which  mountains  belong  to  the  Lord  of  that  hill  of 
which  we  have  spoken  before  ;  so  they  went  up  to  the 
mountains,  to  behold  the  gardens  and  orchards,  the  vine- 
yards and  fountains  of  water ;  where  also  they  drank  and 
washed  themselves,  and  did  freely  eat  of  the  vineyards.  Now  there 
were  on  the  top  of  these  mountains  shepherds  feeding  their  flocks, 
and  they  stood  by  the  highway-side.  The  Pilgrims  therefore  went  to 
them,  and  leaning  upon  their  staves  (as  is  common  with  weary  pil- 
grims when  they  stand  to  talk  with  any  by  the  way),  they  asked, 
Whose  Delectable  Mountains  are  these  ?  and  whose  be  the  sheep 
that  feed  upon  them? 


The  Delectable  Mountains. — Days  of 
peace  and  a  season  of  repose  are  granted  to 
the  Pilgrims  after  their  hard  experiences  in 
Doubting  Castle.  A  pastoral  scene  opens 
upon  their  view,  and  by-and-by  they  are  in 
the  midst  of  orchards  and  vineyards  and 
flowing  fountains  and  refreshing  fruits — in- 
dicative of  the  high  privileges  and  season- 
able comlorts  that  refresh  the  souls  of  them 
that  are  weary. 

Here  are  pasture-grounds  and  flocks  of 
sheep,  and  shepherds  tending  them — a  lovely 
illustration  of  "  the  Church  of  God  which  he 
hath  purchased  with  his  own  blood  "  (Acts 
20  :  28).     Here  are  the  under-shepherds,  in 


charge  of  the  folds  of  sheep,  and  responsi- 
ble to  "  the  Great  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
(overseer)  of  our  souls."  Just  such  a  scene 
as  is  described  by  the  prophet  in  view  of  the 
Gospel-day :  "  How  beautiful  upon  the 
mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth 
good  tidings,  that  publisheth  peace;  that 
bringeth  good  tidings  of  good,  that  publish- 
eth salvation  ;  that  saithunto  Zion,  Thy  God 
reigneth  "  (Isa.  52:  7). 

By  the  highivay-side. — These  Shepherds 
watch  for  souls ;  and  therefore  do  they  stand 
in  the  thoroughfare,  where  prilgrims  pass, 
and  need  their  counsel  and  communion  for 
the   further   stages   of  the    journey.      The 


(196) 


The  Shepherds, 


197 


Shep.  These  mountains  are  Immanuel's  Land,  and  they  an. 
within  sight  of  his  city  ;  and  the  sheep  also  are  his,  and  he  laid  dowi; 
his  life  for  them  (John  lo:  ii,  15). 

Chr.    Is  this  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City? 

Shep.    You  are  just  in  your  way. 

Chr,    How  far  is  it  thither? 

Shep.    Too  far  for  any  but  those  that  shall  get  thither  indeed. 

Chr.    Is  the  way  safe  or  dangerous? 

Shep.  Safe  for  those  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe ;  "  but  trans- 
gressors shall  fall  therein"  (Hos.  14  :  9). 

Chr.  Is  there  in  this  place  any  relief  for  pilgrims  that  are  weary 
and  faint  in  the  way  ? 

Shep.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  given  us  a  charge 
"not  to  be  forgetful  to  entertain  strangers"  (Heb.  13:2);  therefore 
the  good  of  the  place  is  before  you. 

I  saw  also  in  my  dream,  that  when  the  Shepherds  perceived 
that  they  were  wayfaring  men  they  also  put  questions  to  them,  tG 
which  they  made  answer,  as  in  other  places :  as.  Whence  came  you] 
and  how  got  you  into  the  way  ?  and  by  what  means  have  you  so 
persevered  therein  ?  for  but  few  of  them  that  begin  to  come  hither 
do  show  their  face  on  these  mountains.  But  when  the  Shepherds 
heard  their  answers,  being  pleased  therewith,  they  looked  very  lov- 
ingly upon  them,  and  said,  Welcome  to  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

The  Shepherds,  I  say,  whose  names  were  Knowledge,  Expe- 
rience, Watchful  and  Sincere,  took  them  by  the  hand  and  had  them 
to  their  tents,  and  made  them  partake  of  that  which  was  ready  at 
present.  They  said,  moreover.  We  would  that  you  should  stay  here 
a  while,  to  be  acquainted  with  us,  and  yet  more  to  solace  yourselves 


names  of  the  Shepherds  are  suggestive,  em- 
bracing the  main  features  of  the  true  Chris- 
tian minister.  Rarely,  indeed,  are  all  these 
combined  in  any  very  high  degree  in  any 
one  person.  The  great  lesson,  however,  is 
— not  a  fourfold  classification  of  different 
gifts,  but  (as  far  as  God's  grace  and  human 
opportunity  may  permit)  the  combination  of 
these  fourfold  gifts  and  graces  in  every  min- 
ister of  Jesus  Christ. 

Knowledge. — Under  the  Jewish  dispen- 
sation it  was  required  that  "  the  priest's  lips 
should  keep  knowledge  "  (Mai.  2  :  7).  How 
much  more  must  this  be  demanded  of  the 
Christian  minister,  whose  office  it  is  to  in- 


struct the  people  in  the  things  of  God  ;  to 
feed  the  sheep,  and  to  tend  the  lambs  of  the 
flock! 

Experience. — Knowledge  for  the  head, 
experience  for  the  heart — "  for  the  perfect- 
ing of  the  saints,  for  the  edifying  of  the  body 
of  Christ  "  (Eph.  4:  12).  This  is  the  secret 
of  an  experimental  ministry.  He  that  draws 
water  for  himself  from  the  wells  of  salvation 
will  be  able  most  plentifully  to  supply  the 
spiritual  wants  of  others. 

Watchful  — Knowledge  may  sleep,  and 
experience  may  nod  to  slumber ;  but  watch- 
fulness tends  to  keep  both  awake,  and  to 
sustain  both  in  action.     The  true  minister  is 


198  The  Pilgrims  Progress. 

with  the  good  of  these  Delectable  Mountains.  They  told  them  that 
they  were  content  to  stay  ;  and  so  they  went  to  their  rest  that  night, 
because  it  was  very  late. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  in  the  morning  the  Shepherds 
called  upon  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  walk  with  them  upon  the 
mountains ;  so  they  went  forth  with  them,  and  walked  a  w^hile, 
having  a  pleasant  prospect  on  every  side.  Then  said  the  Shejjherds 
one  to  another,  Shall  we  show  these  pilgrims  some  wonders?  So, 
when  they  had  concluded  to  do  it,  they  had  them  first  to  the  top  of 
a  hill,  called  Error,  which  was  very  steep  on  the  farthest  side,  and 
bid  them  look  down  to  the  bottom.  So  Christian  and  Hopeful 
looked  down,  and  saw  at  the  bottom  several  men  dashed  all  to 
pieces  by  a  fall  that  they  had  from  the  top.  Then  said  Christian, 
What  meaneth  this?  The  Shepherds  answered,  Have  you  not 
heard  of  them  that  were  made  to  err,  by  hearkening  to  Hymeneus 
and  Philetus,  as  concerning  the  faith  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body  ? 
(2  Tim.  2:  17,  18).  They  answered.  Yes.  Then  said  the  Shepherds, 
Those  that  you  see  lie  dashed  in  pieces  at  the  bottom  of  this  moun- 
tain are  they ;  and  they  have  continued  to  this  day  unburied,  as  you 
see,  for  an  example  to  others  to  take  heed  how  they  clamber  too  high, 
or  how  they  come  too  near  the  brink  of  this  mountain. 

Then  I  saw  that  they- had  them  to  the  top  of  another  mountain, 
and  the  name  of  that  is  Caution,  and  bid  them  look  afar  off;  which 
when  they  did  they  perceived,  as  they  thought,  several  men  walking 
up  and  down  among  the  tombs  that  were  there ;  and  they  perceived 
that  the  men  were  blind,  because  they  stumbled  sometimes  upon 
the  tombs,  and  because  they  could  not  get  out  from  among  them. 
Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 


a  Watchman,  a  wakeful  sentinel — "  all  eye, 
all  ear,  all  expectation  of  the  coming  foe." 
It  is  for  him  to  keep  the  sheep,  to  guard  the 
fold.  Therefore  says  the  Apostle:  "They 
watch  for  your  souls,  as  they  that  must  give 
account." 

Sincere. — Not  gifts  only,  but  graces  also 
— graces  to  use  well  the  gifts.  Sinxere  in- 
volves all  that  is  included  within  the  mean- 


Some  wonders. — The  Pilgrims  sleep,  and 
are  refreshed.  They  awake  for  spiritual 
communion  with  the  Shepherds ;  and  as 
they  walk  and  talk  together,  they  see  "a 
pleasant  prospect  on  every  side."  These 
are  some  of  the  blessed  privileges  of  Im- 
manuel's  Land.  But  there  are  other  views 
which  must  be  pointed  out  ere  they  depart. 

In  the  midst  of  privileges  there  are  mani- 


ing    of  a   true  man,  whose   heart  believes   !    fold    dangers.       Here,    on    the    Delectable 
what  his  lips  declare,  whose  breast  is  filled   '    Mountains,  is  the  Mount  of  Error.     Over  its 


with  the  love  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  souls. 
Sincere  is  no  hireling  shepherd ;  in  a  sin- 
cere heart  and  fervently  he  loves  the  sheep, 
and  guides  them  safely  to  the  fold- 


lowering  crest  they  look  down  its  precipitous 
sides  to  its  deep  base  underneath,  and  there 
they  see  the  victims  of  Error  in  religion. 
Take  heed,  ye  sheep,  that  ye  wander  not 


The  Doom  of  Hypocrites. 


199 


The  Shepherds  then  answered,  Did  you  not  see  a  Httle  below 
these  mountains  a  stile  that  leads  into  a  meadow  on  the  left  hand  o) 
this  way?  They  answered,  Yes.  Then  said  the  Shepherds,  From 
that  stile  there  goes  a  path  that  leads  directly  to  Doubting  Castle, 
which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair ;  and  these  men  (pointing  to  them 
among  the  tombs)  came  once  on  pilgrimage,  as  you  do  now,  even 
till  they  came  to  that  same  stile.  And  because  the  right  way  was 
rough  in  that  place,  they  choose  to  go  out  of  it  into  that  meadow\ 
and  there  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair,  and  cast  into  Doubting- 
Castle  ;  where,  after  they  had  been  kept  in  the  dungeon,  he  at  last 
did  put  out  their  eyes,  and  led  them  among  those  tombs,  where  he 
has  left  them  to  wander  to  this  very  day,  that  the  saying  of  the  wise 
man  might  be  fulfilled,  "  He  that  wandereth  out  of  the  way  of  under- 
standing, shall  remain  in  the  congregation  of  the  dead  (Prov.  21:  16). 
Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  upon  one  another,  with  tears 
gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the  Shepherds. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Shepherds  had  them  to 
another  place,  in  a  bottom,  where  was  a  door  in  the  side  of  a  hill ; 
and  they  opened  the  door  and  bid  them  look  in.  They  looked  in, 
therefore,  and  saw  that  within  it  was  very  dark  and  smoky;  they  also 
thought  that  they  heard  a  rumbling  noise,  as  of  fire,  and  a  cry  of 
some  tormented,  and  that  they  smelt  the  scent  of  brimstone.  Then 
said  Christian,  What  means  this  ?  The  Shepherds  told  them,  This 
is  a  byway  to  hell,  a  way  that  hypocrites  go  in  at :  namely,  such  as 
sell  their  birthright,  with  Esau  ;  such  as  sell  their  Master,  with  Judas  ; 
such  as  blaspheme  the  gospel,  with  Alexander ;  and  that  lie  and  dis- 
semble, with  Ananias  and  Sapphira  his  wife. 


to  this  dangerous  height !  Take  double 
heed,  ye  Shepherds — for  yourselves  and  for 
the  flock — lest  ye  be  responsible  for  the 
downfall  of  some ! 

Another  height  is  called  Mount  Caution. 
This  is  a  point,  not  of  danger,  but  of  admon- 
itory observation.  The  view  hence  is  full 
of  deep  meaning,  especially  to  our  Pilgrims. 
A  bold  and  masterly  reminiscence  is  this, 
showing  how  far  they  had  themselves  al- 
ready wandered ;  aye,  and  a  little  farther ! 
There  was  the  well  remembered  "stile," 
and  there  its  deceptive  path  through  the 
meadow-land,  and  there  its  destination — 
Doubting  Castle.  All  this  the  Pilgrims 
knew  by  sad,  sad  experience.     But  Divine 


mercy,  and  their  realization  of  the  promises, 
had  delivered  them ;  and  now  they  are  per- 
mitted to  see  what  that  deliverance  involves^ 
Here,  on  the  Mountains  Delectable,  are  the 
delivered  captives  looking  down  upon  the 
captives  that  have  never  been  set  free — the 
blind  victims  of  Despair,  dwelling  among 
the  tombs  of  dead  men,  blindly  and  vainly 
groping,  where  no  light  or  joy  or  liberty  will 
ever  dawn  again,  and  all  is  doubt  and  dark- 
ness and  despair.  Oh,  how  their  view  did 
magnify  the  greatness  of  that  love  that  did 
deliver  them  from  such  a  deep  and  dark 
captivity ! 

A  byway  to  hcII. — How  dreadful  to  con- 
template, that  in  the  fairest  places  of  Chris- 


200 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


THE  HILL  ERROR. 


Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  Shepherds,  I  perceive  that  these  had 
on  them,  even  every  one,  a  show  of  pilgrimage,  as  we  have  now,  had 
they  not  ? 

Shep.    Yes,  and  held  it  a  long  time,  too. 

Hope.  How  far  might  they  go  on  in  pilgrimage;,  in  their  days, 
since  they,  notwithstanding,  were  thus  miserably  cast  away? 

Shep.    Some  further,  and  some  not  so  far  as  these  mountains. 

Then  said  the  Pilgrims  one  to  the  other.  We  have  need  to  cry  to 
the  Strong  for  strength  ! 


tian  privilege  are  found  the  greatest  penalties 
of  disobedience!  Yes,  this  is  the  place 
where  the  "  many  stripes "  are  earned. 
There  are  some  who  go  straight  to  hell,  by 
the  open  and  avowed  path  of  imgodliness. 
There  are  others  who  walk  in  profession  of 


religion,  clad  in  the  King's  hvery,  using  the 
Master's  name,  and  who  yet,  through  some 
byway,  shall  be  cast  into  outer  darkness 
from  the  brilliantly-lighted  festive  hall.  "  If 
therefore  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  darkness, 
how  great  is  that  darkness  !  " 


The  Shepherds^  Advice, 


201 


Shep.  Aye,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it  when  you  have 
it,  too. 

By  this  time  the  Pilgrims  had  a  desire  to  go  forwards,  and  the 
Shepherds  a  desire  they  should;  so  they  walked  together  towards  the 
end  of  the  mountains.  Then  said  the  Shepherds  one  to  another,  Let 
us  here  show  the  Pilgrims  the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City,  if  they  have 
skill  to  look  through  our  perspective  glass.  The  Pilgrims  then  lov- 
ingly accepted  the  motion  ;  so  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  a  high  hill, 
called  Clear,  and  gave  them  the  glass  to  look. 

Then  they  tried  to  look,  but  the  remembrance  of  that  last  thing 
that  the  Shepherds  had  shown  them  made  their  hands  shake  ;  by 
means  of  which  impediment  they  could  not  look  steadily  throuo-hthe 
glass  ;  yet  they  thought  they  saw  something  like  the  gate,  and  also 
some  of  the  glory  of  the  place. 

When  they  were  about  to  depart,  one  of  the  Shepherds  gave  them 
a  7iote  of  the  way ;  another  of  them  bid  them  beware  of  the  flatter  ei^ ; 
the  third  bid  them  take  heed  that  they  slept  not  upon  the  enchanted, 
ground ;  and  the  fourth  bid  them  God-speed.  So  I  awoke  from  my 
dream. 


IGNORANCE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


The  Enchanted  Ground,  and  the  Descent  Thereto. 

In  the  midst  of  blissful  revelations,  somewhat  checkered  by  at  least  one  dreadful 
scene  of  admonition,  the  Dreamer  awakes.  But  by-and-by  he  dreams  again.  The  same 
two  Pilgrims  are  presented  to  his  view ;  they  have  now  reached  the  level  plains,  and  have 
once  more  to  meet  the  perils  of  the  way.  Here,  fresh  visions  are  vouchsafed,  and  new 
lessons  taught. 

By  a  "  crooked  lane,"  from  the  country  of  Conceit,  Ignorance  enters  on  the  pil- 
grimage. Of  him  we  shall  learn  more  by-and-by.  Meanwhile,  a  critical  stage  of  the  jour- 
ney is  being  passed,  with  present  evidences  and  bygone  reminiscences  of  danger.  Here 
TuRNAWAY  is  stayed  in  his  unworthy  career,  and  by  his  awful  fate  fills  up  a  portion  of  the 
picture  of  the  Allegory.  And  here,  too,  is  the  place  where  Little-faith  was  once  over- 
powered by  the  assault  of  the  robbers  and  bandits  of  the  way,  leaving  an  admonitory 
lesson,  and  a  comforting  truth  withal,  for  those  who  would  afterwards  pass  that  way.  "  A 
little  crooked  lane,"  "a  very  dark  lane,"  and  "  Deadman's-lane,"  are  here  set  forth  as 
perilous  places,  for  admonition  ;  and  "  Li'Me-faiih,"  as  the  single  ray  of  hope. 

;ND  I  slept,  and  dreamed  again,  and  saw  the  same  two 
Pilgrims  going  down  the  mountains  along  the  highway 
towards  the  city.  Now  a  little  below  these  mountains, 
on  the  left  hand,  lieth  the  country  of  Conceit,  from  which 
country  there  comes  into  the  way  in  which  the  Pilgrims 
walked  a  little  crooked  lane.  Here  therefore  they  met  with  a  very 
brisk  lad  that  came  out  of  that  country,  and  his  name  was  Ignorance. 
So  Christian  asked  him  from  what  parts  he  came,  and  whither  he 
was  going  ? 

Ignor.  Sir,  I  was  born  in  the  country  that  lieth  off  there  a  little 
on  the  left  hand,  and  I  am  going  to  the  Celestial  City. 

Chr.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in  at  the  gate?  for  you  may 
find  some  difficulty  there. 


TAg  same  two  Pilgrims. — The  preceding 
scene  had  broken  the  slumbers  of  the 
Dreamer ;  but  he  turns  once  more  upon  his 
side,  and  dreams  again.  It  is  not  a  new 
dream,  but  a  continuance  of  the  old.  He  I 
sees  the  same  twain  Pilgrims.  On  his  awak- 
ing, he  had  left  them  on  the  heights;  on  his 
sleeping  again,  he  sees  them  in  the  hollows  j 

(20 


— pursuing  the  self-same  pilgrimage.  The 
Dream  does  not  lose  sight  of  its  great  heroes ; 
and  God  does  not  lose  sight  of  his  faithful 
children:  "He  which  hath  begun  a  good 
work  in  you,  will  perform  it  until  the  day  of 
Jesus  Christ  "  (Phil,  i  :  6). 

A  little  crooked  lane. — Not  by  the  "  strait 
gate,"  but  ly  the  "crooked  lane,"  has  this 

■I) 


The  Pilgrims  encounter  Ignorance. 


203 


As  other  good  people  do,  said  he. 

Chr.  But  what  have  you  to  show  at  that  gate,  that  the  gate 
should  be  opened  to  you  ? 

Ignor.  I  know  my  Lord's  will,  and  have  been  a  good  liver;  I 
pay  every  man  his  own;  I  pray,  fast,  pay  tithes,  and  give  alms,  and 
have  left  my  country  for  whither  I  am  going. 

Chr.  But  thou  camest  not  in  at  the  Wicket-gfate  that  is  at  the 
head  of  this  way  ;  thou  camest  in  hither  through  that  same  crooked 
lane;  and  therefore  I  fear,  however  thou  mayest  think  of  thyself, 
when  the  reckoning-day  shall  come,  thou  wilt  have  laid  to  thy  charge 
that  thou  art  a  thief  and  a  robber,  instead  of  getting  admittance 
into  the  city. 

Ignor.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  strangers  to  me ;  I  know  you 
not ;  be  content  to  follow  the  religion  of  your  country,  and  I  will 
follow  the  religion  of  mine.  I  hope  all  will  be  well.  And  as  for  the 
gate  that  you  talk  of,  all  the  world  knows  that  that  is  a  great  way 
off  our  country.  I  cannot  think  that  any  man  in  all  our  parts  doth 
so  much  as  know  the  way  to  it ;  nor  need  they  matter  whether  they 
do  or  no,  since  we  have,  as  you  see,  a  fine,  pleasant,  green  lane, 
that  comes  down  from  our  country,  the  next  way  into  the  way. 

When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  was  wise  in  his  own  conceit, 
he  said  to  Hopeful,  whisperingly,  "There  is  more  hope  of  a  fool 
than  of  him"  (Prov.  26:  12):  and  said,  moreover,  "When  he  that 
is  a  fool  walketh  by  the  way,  his  wisdom  faileth  him,  and  he  saith  to 
every  one  that  he  is  a  fool "  (Eccles.  10:  3).  What!  shall  we  talk 
further  with  him,  or  outgo  him  at  present,  and  so  leave  him  to  think 
of  what  he  hath  heard  already,  and  then  stop  again  for  him  after- 
wards, and  see  if  by  degrees  we  can  do  any  good  to  him  ?  Then 
said  Hopeful — 

Let  Ignorance  a  little  while  now  muse 
On  what  is  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 
Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  he  remain 
Still  ignorant  of  what's  the  chiefest  gain. 
God  saith,  those  that  no  understanding  have, 
Although  he  made  them,  them  he  will  not  save. 


new  Pilgri«n  obtained  admittance  to  the 
"  Narrow-way,"  in  his  journey  from  the 
country  of  Conceit.  Men  that  are  wise  in  their 
own  conceits  consider  their  own  way  to  be 
the  best,  and  discern  not  the  crookedness  of 
the  path  they  tread.  Here  is  introduced  a 
Pilgrim,  who  sub^o"«atly  travels  even  to 


the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City,  and  there 
meets  his  final  destiny.  A  character  that 
travels  thus  far,  and  approaches  thus  near 
to  the  end  of  the  Progress,  surely  demands 
the  serious  attention  of  all  If  we  would 
"  finish  our  course  with  joy,"  we  do  well  to 
take  warning  by  the  example  of  Ignorance. 


X 
H 

< 

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H 

H 
1—1 

eq 
O 

H 

D 

O 


H 
en 

Pi 
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< 

W 
H 
■< 


Christian's  Story  of  Little-faith. 


205 


He  further  added,  It  is  not  good,  I  think,  to  say  so  to  him  all  at 
once ;  let  us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will,  and  talk  to  him  anon,  even  as 
he  is  "able  to  bear  it." 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  he  came  after.  Now 
when  they  had  passed  him  a  little  way,  they  entered  into  a  very  dark- 
lane,  where  they  met  a  man  whom  seven  devils  had  bound  with 
seven  strong  cords,  and  were  carrying  back  to  the  door  that  they 
saw  on  the  side  of  the  hill  (Matt.  12  :  45  ;  Prov.  5  :  22).  Now  good 
Christian  began  to  tremble,  and  so  did  Hopeful,  his  companion  ;  yet 
as  the  devils  led  away  the  man,  Christian  looked  to  see  if  he  knew 
him  ;  and  he  thought  it  might  be  one  Turnaway,  that  dwelt  in  the 
town  of  Apostacy.  But  he  did  not  perfectly  see  his  face,  for  he  did 
hang  his  head  like  a  thief  that  is  found.  But  being  gone  past, 
Hopeful  looked  after  him,  and  spied  on  his  back  a  paper  with  this 
inscription,  "Wanton  professor  and  damnable  apostate." 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  I  call  to  my  remem- 
brance that  which  was  told  me  of  a  thing  that  happened  to  a  good 
man  hereabout.  The  name  of  that  man  was  Little-faith,  but  a  good 
man,  and  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Sincere.  The  thing  was  this  :  at 
the  entering  in  at  this  passage,  there  comes  down  from  Broadway- 
gate  a  lane  called  Deadman's-lane  ;  so  called  because  of  the  murders 
that  are  commonly  done  there ;  and  this  Little-faith,  going  on  pil- 
grimage as  we  do  now,  chanced  to  sit  down  there  and  sleep.  Now 
there  happen'^d  at  that  time  to  come  down  the  lane  from  Broadway- 


A  very  dark  lane. — This  is  evidently  a 
perilous  portion  of  the  journey.  Dangers 
are  multiplied  here,  and  the  Pilgrims  must 
needs  be  circumspect.  This  is  the  "dark 
lane"  of  perdition  to  at  least  one  man,  who 
is  borne  thence  in  the  strong  custody  of 
devils.  The  remembrance  of  what  the 
Shepherds  had  shown  them  is  revived  in  the 
minds  of  our  Pilgrims,  by  the  fate  of  this 
victim  of  darkness,  when  they  observed  how 
he  was  cast  into  the  door  in  the  side  of  the 
Hill.  And  this  remembrance  awakens 
other  reminiscences  of  the  dangers  of  the 
place.  Here,  Christian  tells  the  story  of 
one  of  the  Pilgrims  of  former  days — a  story 
illustrative  of  some  of  the  tests  and  trials  of 
P'aith,  how  nearly  it  may  be  overborne,  and 
may  at  last  be  left,  as  it  were,  half-dead. 

Litilc-faith. — The  mention  of  this  man's 
name  introduces  a  very  instructive  episode 


of  the  narrative.  The  "  many  ways  that 
butt  down"  upon  the  path  are  doubly  dan- 
gerous— (i)  to  the  false  Pilgrims  who  walk 
therein,  and  who  enter  the  narrow  way 
thereby ;  and  (2)  to  the  true  Pilgrims  who 
tarry  near  those  devious  paths.  Thieves 
and  robbers  enter  by  these  side  avenues, 
and  by  their  assaults  they  ofttimes  do  injury 
to  the  Pilgrims  of  Zion. 

This  man,  Little-faith,  not  heeding  the 
danger,  had  sat  down  at  the  junction  of 
Deadman's-lane  with  the  Narrow  way. 
Here  he  was  overpowered  by  the  desire  to 
slumber,  and  he  slept.  This  was  neither 
the  time  nor  the  place  for  sleep  ;  hence  the 
sequel — the  assault  by  Faint-heart,  Mis 
TRUST  and  Guilt. 

This  is  a  remarkable  description  of  the 
dangers  incident  to  littleness  of  Faith. 
There  are  degrees  of  Faith  ;  some  stronger, 


20G 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


gate  three  sturdy  rogues,  and  their  names  were  Faint-heart,  Mis- 
trust, and  Guilt,  three  brothers  ;  and  they,  espying  Little-faith  where 
he  was,  came  galloping  up  with  speed.  Now  the  good  man  was  just 
awakened  from  his  sleep,  and  was  getting  up  to  go  on  his  journey. 
So  they  came  up  all  to  him,  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him 
stand.  At  this  Little-faith  looked  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  had 
neither  power  to  fight  nor  fly.  Then  said  Faint-heart,  Deliver  thy 
purse  ;  but  he,  making  no  haste  to  do  it  (for  he  was  loath  to  lose  his 
money),  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him,  and  thrusting  his  hands  into  his 
pocket  pulled  out  thence  a  bag  of  silver.  Then  he  cried  out,  Thieves, 
Thieves  !  With  that  Guilt,  with  a  great  club  that  was  in  his  hand, 
struck  Little-faith  on  the  head,  and  with  that  blow  felled  him  flat 
to  the  ground  ;  where  he  lay  bleeding  as  one  that  would  bleed  to 
death.  All  this  while  the  thieves  stood  by.  But  at  last,  hearing 
that  some  were  upon  the  road,  and  fearing  lest  it  should  be  one  Great- 
grace,  that  dwells  in  the  town  of  Good-confidence,  they  betook  them- 
selves to  their  heels,  and  left  this  good  man  to  shift  for  himself  Now 
after  a  while  Little-faith  came  to  himself,  and,  getting  up,  made  shift 
to  scramble  on  his  way.     This  was  the  story. 

Hope.    But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  ever  he  had? 

Chr.  No  ;  the  place  where  his  jewels  were  they  never  ran- 
sacked ;  so  those  he  kept  still.  But,  as  I  was  told,  the  good  man 
was  much  afilicted  for  his  loss  ;  for  the  thieves  had  got  most  of  his 
spending  money.     That  which  they  got  not,  as  I  said,  were  jewels  ; 


some  weaker ;  some  greater,  some  lesser ; 
and  according  to  its  strength  or  weakness  is 
the  experience  of  its  possessor.  The  man  of 
httle  faith  is  more  susceptible  of  alarms, 
more  liable  to  assaults,  and  more  vulnerable 
in  the  fight,  than  he  that  has  great  faith. 
Thus  Little-faith  is  exposed  to  three  suc- 
cessive assaults,  progressive  in  their  charac- 
ter and  consequences.  Through  the  weak- 
ness of  his  faith,  his  heart  is  faint ;  he  is 
brought  to  a  standstill ;  he  has  no  boldness 
of  resolution  ;  and  his  fears  are  more  than 
his  faith  This  is  straightway  followed  by  a 
distrustful  spirit,  by  which  the  Pilgrim  loses 
I  many  of  the  marks  and  tokens  of  his  ac- 
I  ceptance.  And,  having  thus  far  suffered 
by  these  successive  assaults,  his  faith  be- 
comes yet  more  feeble,  and  by-and-by  he  falls 
a  victim  to  guilt,  and  is  brought  low,  even  to 
the  dust  of  spiritual  degradation   and  to  the 


poverty  and  need  of  spiritual  loss.  Whoso 
gives  way  to  2l faint  heart  in  the  pilgrimage, 
will  soon  mis  trust  the.  comforts  and  promises 
of  God,  and  ere  long  this  will  amount  to 
g7nlt  of  soul  and  conscience — and  all 
through  littleness  of  Faith  ! 

Most  0/ his  spending-  money. — This  was  the 
amount  of  Little-faith's  loss.  The 
"  pearl  of  great  price"  was  his  main  capital ; 
his  comfort  and  confidence  and  assurance 
are  the  dividend  or  income,  which  will  be 
more  or  less,  in  proportion  as  the  value  of 
the  treasure  of  the  heart  is  realized  by  faith. 
Over  and  above  the  jewels  of  the  Kingdom 
are  the  joys  and  consolations  of  the  Chris- 
tian, that  tend  to  mitigate  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day,  and  to  shorten  the  weariness 
of  the  journey  home.  These  are  the  inci- 
dental possessions  of  the  Pilgrim  ;  the  cir- 
cumstantials, but  not  the  essentials,  of  his 


Discussion  regaydi^ig  Little-faith. 


207 


also  he  had  a  Httle  odd  money  left,  but  scarce  enoiigh  to  bring  him 
to  his  journey's  end  (i  Peter  4  :  18)  ;  nay,  if  I  was  not  misinformed, 
he  was  forced  to  beg  as  he  went,  to  keep  himself  alive  ;  for  his 
jewels  he  might  not  sell.  But  beg  and  do  what  h(i  could,  he  went, 
as  we  say,  with  many  a  hungry  belly  the  most  part  of  the  rest  of 
the  way. 

Hope.  But  is  it  not  a  wonder  they  got  not  from  him  his  certifi- 
cate, by  which  he  is  to  receive  admission  at  the  Celestial  Gate  ? 

Chr.  It  is  a  wonder ;  but  they  got  not  that,  though  they  missec 
it  not  through  any  good  cunning  of  his;  for  he,  being  dismayed  by 
their  coming  upon  him,  had  neither  power  nor  skill  to  hide  anything 
(2  Tim.  I  :  14;  2  Peter  2  :  9)  ;  so  it  was  more  by  good  providence 
than  by  his  endeavor  that  they  missed  of  that  good  thing. 

Hope.  But  it  must  needs  be  a  comfort  to  him  that  they  got  not 
his  jewels  from  him. 

Chr.  It  might  have  been  great  comfort  to  him,  had  he  used  it 
as  he  should ;  but  they  that  told  me  the  story  said,  that  he  made  but 
little  use  of  it  all  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  that  because  of  the  dismay 
that  he  had  in  the  taking  away  of  his  money.  Indeed,  he  forgot  it  a 
great  part  of  the  rest  of  his  journey;  and  besides,  when  at  any  time 
it  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  began  to  be  comforted  therewith,  then 
would  fresh  thoughts  of  his  loss  come  again  upon  him,  and  those 
thoughts  would  swallow  up  all. 

Hope.    Alas,  poor  man  !  this  could  not  but  be  a  great  grief  to  him. 

Chr.  Grief!  aye,  a  grief  indeed.  Would  it  not  have  been  so  to 
any  of  us,  had  we  been  used  as  he,  to  be  robbed  and  wounded  too, 
and  that  in  a  strange  place,  as  he  was  ?     It  is  a  wonder  he  did  not 


assurance  and  acceptance.  Hence,  Bunyan 
calls  them  "his  spending  money" — those 
minor  joys,  and  passing  sunshine,  that  may 
be  clouded  and  darkened,  that  are  liable  to 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  spiritual  tides,  and  rise 
or  fall  according  to  the  fluctuations  of  faith. 
Littleness  of  faith  will  have  littleness  of  real- 
ization ;  and  when  it  is  faint-hearted  and  ex- 
posed to  the  doubts  and  suspici'r'ns  of  mis- 
trust, it  forfeits  confidenre,  sufifers  spiritual 
loss,  and  becomes  otherwise  impoverished. 
They  got  not  his  jewels. — The  main  capi- 
tal, the  treasure  of  the  heart,  is  safe.  That 
treasure  is  in  heaven,  where  thieves  do  not 
break  through  nor  steal.  His  faith,  though 
little,  is  alive.    If  it  were  great  faith,  it  would 


reap  great  profits  and  enjoyments  ;  but  this 
man's  faith  is  small,  and  therefore  he  realizes 
but  httle  of  the  joys  and  consolations  of  the 
way.  These  "jewels"  are  the  essentials  of 
the  man  of  God — living  faith,  holy  love ; 
the  certificate  of  acceptance — "  the  witness 
of  the  Spirit,"  which  is  the  credential  of  the 


pilgrimage.     Little-faith    still 


possesses 
'  hid  with 


these  ;  they  are  in  safe  custody 
Christ  in  God."  His  gold,  and  his  greater 
and  more  costly  treasures,  are  intrusted,  not 
to  his  own  frail  custody,  but  to  a  faithful 
Creator,  to  whom  he  has  committed  the 
keeping  of  his  soul  (i  Peter  4:  19).  Thus 
does  Bunyan  further  illustrate  his  meaning, 
when,  in  his  "  Grace  Abounding,"  he  says: 


208 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  ARE  LEU  ASTRAY  BY  THE  FLATTERER. 

die  with  grief,  poor  heart !  I  was  told  that  he  scattered  almost  all  the 
rest  of  the  way  with  nothing  but  doleful  and  bitter  complaints  ;  telling 
also  to  all  that  overtook  him,  or  that  he  overtook  in  the  way  as  he 
went,  where  he  was  robbed,  and  how  ;  who  they  were  that  did  it,  and 
what  he  had  lost ;  how  he  was  wounded,  and  that  he  hardly  escaped 
with  life. 

Hope.  But  it  is  a  wonder  that  his  necessity  did  not  put  him 
upon  selling  or  pawning  some  of  his  jewels,  that  he  might  have 
wherewithal  to  relieve  himself  in  his  journey. 


"Oh,  I  saw  that  my  gold  was  in  my  trunk 
at  home,  in  Christ  my  Lord  and  Saviour. 
Now,  Christ  was  all ;  all  my  wisdom,  all  my 
righteousness,  all  my  sanctification,  and  all 
my  redemption!" 


The  preservation  of  his  "jewels"  was 
owing  to  two  reasons — (i)  because  they  were 
treasured  up  in  heaven ;  and  (2)  because 
they  were  held  as  of  no  account  on  earth. 

(i)  They  were  treasured   up  in  heaven. 


Christian  reproves  Hopeful. 


209' 


'  Chr.  Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  the  shell  to  this 
very  day.  For  what  should  he  pawn  them  ?  or  to  whom  should  he  sell 
them  ?  In  all  that  country  where  he  was  robbed  his  jewels  were  not 
accounted  of;  nor  did  he  want  that  relief  which  could  from  thence  be 
administered  to  him.  Besides,  had  his  jewels  been  missing  at  the 
gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  he  had  (and  that  he  knew  well  enough), 
been  excluded  from  an  inheritance  there,  and  that  would  have  bee  a 
worse  to  him  than  the  appearance  and  villany  of  ten  thousand  thieves 

Hope.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother?  Esau  sold  his  birth- 
right, and  that  for  a  mess  of  pottage  (Heb.  12:  16);  and  that  birth- 
right was  his  greatest  jewel;  and,  if  he,  why  might  not  Little-faith  do 
so  too  ? 

Chr.  Esau  did  sell  his  birthright  indeed,  and  so  do  many  besides, 
and  by  so  doing  exclude  themselves  from  the  chief  blessing ;  as  also 
that  caitiff  did  ;  but  you  must  put  a  difference  betwixt  Esau  and 
Litde-faith,  and  also  betwixt  their  estates.  Esau's  birthright  was 
typical,  but  Little-faith's  jewels  were  not  so.  Esau's  belly  was  his 
god,  but  Little-faith's  belly  was  not  so.  Esau's  want  lay  in  his  fleshly 
appetite,  Little-faith's  did  not  so.  Besides,  Esau  could  see  no  further 
than  to  the  fulfilling  of  his  lusts :  "  For  I  am  at  the  point  to  die,  " 
said  he,  "and  what  good  will  this  birthright  do  me"  (Gen.  25:  29- 
34)?  But  Little-faith,  though  it  was  his  lot  to  have  but  a  little  faith, 
was  by  his  little  faith  kept  from  such  extravagances,  and  made  to  see 
and  prize  his  jewels  more  than  to  sell  them,  as  Esau  did  his  birthright. 
You  read  not  anywhere  that  Esau  had  faith,  not  so  much  as  a  little; 
therefore  no  marvel  if,  where  the  flesh  only  bears  sway  (as  it  will  in 


The  heavenly  treasure  is  never  committed 
to  the  sole  charge  and  custody  of  human 
hands.  The  Christian  Pilgrim's  treasure  is 
not  here,  but  laid  up  in  heaven.  The  road 
of  life  is  far  too  dangerous  for  so  great  a 
charge  as  this.  Therefore,  like  careful 
travellers,  we  journey  lightly  here  ;  the  heavy 
and  material  things  are  in  the  charge  of  One 
who  can  keep  chat  which  is  committed  to 
his  trust.  Thus  the  true  Christian  sits  loose 
to  the  things  of  this  world ;  his  treasure  is 
in  heaven,  and  his  heart  is  there  also 

"  What  have  I  left,  that  I  should  stay  and  g^roan  ? 
The  most  of  me  to  heaven  has  fled. 
My  joys  and  hopes  are  all  packed  up  and  gone ; 
The  rest  must  follow  on  with  speed." 

(2)  They  are  held  as  of  no  account  on 
14 


earth.  The  pearl  of  great  price  is  not  an 
article  of  earthly  exchange ;  nor  is  it  to  be 
had  for  any  earthly  cost.  It  is  ignored  here, 
as  it  was  in  Vanity  Fair.  Whoso  would 
have  it  must  search  for  it  in  heavenly  fields, 
and  dig  for  it  as  for  hid  pearls.  "  Without 
money  and  without  price"  is  the  condition 
of  the  gift ;  and  if  sold  for  earthly  dross, 
this  would  constitute  no  spiritual  gain.  Even 
a  little  faith  is  the  "  gift  of  God,"  held  in 
safe  trust  for  man  by  him  who  is  the  Giver 
of  the  gift. 

The    subsequent    conversation    between  , 
Christian  and  Hopeful  is  aptly  introduced 
at  this  point  of  the  narrative,  illustrative  of 
the  difficulty  of  the  warfare,  the  formidable 
nature  of  the  spiritual  antagonists,  and  the 


210  The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

that  man  where  no  faith  is  to  resist),  he  sells  his  birthright,  and  his 
soul,  and  all,  and  that  to  the  devil  of  hell ;  for  it  is  with  such  as  it  is 
with  the  ass,  who  in  her  occasion  cannot  be  turned  away :  when  their 
minds  are  set  upon  their  lusts,  they  will  have  them,  whatever  they 
cost  (Jer.  2:  24).  But  Little-faith  was  of  another  temper;  his  mind 
was  on  things  Divine;  his  livelihood  was  upon  things  that  were  spiritual 
and  from  above  ;  therefore,  to  what  end  should  he  that  is  of  such  a 
temper  sell  his  jewels  (had  there  been  any  that  would  have  bought 
them),  to  fill  his  mind  with  empty  things?  Will  a  man  give  a  penny 
to  fill  his  belly  with  hay?  or  can  you  persuade  the  turtle-dove  to  live 
upon  carrion,  like  the  crow  ?  Though  faithless  ones  can,  for  carnal 
lusts,  pawn,  or  mortgage,  or  sell  what  they  have,  and  themselves  out- 
right to  boot,  yet  they  that  have  faith,  saving  faith,  though  but  a  little 
of  it,  cannot  do  so.     Here,  therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy  mistake. 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  it ;  but  yet  your  severe  reflection  had 
almost  made  me  angr)'. 

Chr.  Why,  I  did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the  birds  that  are 
of  the  brisker  sort,  who  will  run  to  and  fro  in  untrodden  paths  with 
the  shell  upon  their  heads.  But  pass  by  that,  and  consider  the  mat- 
ter under  debate,  and  all  shall  be  well  betwixt  thee  and  me. 

Hope.  But,  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I  am  persuaded  in  my 
heart,  are  but  a  company  of  cowards  ;  would  they  have  run  else,  think 
you,  as  they  did,  at  the  noise  of  one  that  was  coming  on  the  road  ? 
WHiy  did  not  Little-faith  pluck  up  a  greater  heart  ?  he  might,  methinks, 
have  stood  one  brush  with  them,  and  have  yielded  when  there  had 
been  no  remedy. 

Chr.  That  they  are  cowards,  many  have  said,  but  few  have 
found  it  so  in  the  time  of  trial.  As  for  a  great  heart,  Little-faith  had 
none ;  and  I  perceive  by  thee,  my  brother,  hadst  thou  been  the  man 
concerned,  thou  art  but  for  a  brush,  and  then  to  yield.  And  verily, 
since  this  is  the  height  of  thy  stomach,  now  they  are  at  a  distance 
from  us,  should  they  appear  to  thee,  as  they  did  to  him,  they  might 
put  thee  to  second  thoughts. 

But  consider  again,  they  are  but  journeymen  thieves  ;  they  serve 
under  the  king  of  the  bottomless  pit,  who,  if  need  be,  will  come  to 

little  reliance  to  be  reposed  in  our  own  j  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  own  experience,  as 
strength.  Hopeful's  observ-ations  evidently  a  disciplined  soldier  of  the  Cross,  who  has 
prove  that  he  has  never  experienced  the  |  suffered  adversity,  and  met  with  sharp  re- 
strife,  and  knows  not  what  the  character  of  I  verses,  and  through  fields  of  blood  fought 
the  warfare  is ;  whereas,  Christian  speaks  |  on  to  victory. 


Hopeful  acknowledges  his  Error. 


211 


their  aid  himself,  and  his  voice  is  as  the  roaring  of  a  Hon  (i  Peter 
5:8).  I  myself  have  been  engaged  as  this  Little-faith  was;  and  I 
found  it  a  terrible  thing.  These  three  villains  set  upon  me,  and  I 
beginning  like  a  Christian  to  resist,  they  gave  but  a  call,  and  in  came 
their  master;  I  would,  as  the  saying  is,  have  given  my  life  for  a 
penny  ;  but  that,  as  God  would  have  it,  I  was  clothed  with  armor  of 
proof.  Aye,  and  yet,  though  I  was  so  harnessed,  I  found  it  hard  work 
to  quit  myself  like  a  man  ;  no  man  can  tell  what  in  that  combat 
attends  us,  but  he  that  hath  been  in  the  battle  himself. 

Hope.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did  but  suppose 
that  one  Great-grace  was  in  the  way. 

Chr.  True,  they  have  often  fled,  both  they  and  their  master, 
when  Great  grace  hath  but  appeared  ;  and  no  marvel,  for  he  is  the 
King's  champion  ;  but,  I  trow,  you  will  put  some  difference  between 
Little-faith  and  the  King's  champion.  All  the  King's  subjects  are  not 
his  champions  ;  nor  can  they,  when  tried,  do  such  feats  of  war  as  he. 
Is  it  meet  to  think  that  a  little  child  should  handle  Goliath  as  David 
did  ?  or  that  there  should  be  the  strength  of  an  ox  in  a  wren?  Some 
are  strong,  some  are  weak  ;  some  have  great  faith,  some  have  little ; 
Ms  man  was  one  of  the  weak,  and  therefore  he  "went  to  the  wall." 

Hope.    I  would  it  had  been  Great-grace,  for  their  sakes. 

Chr.  If  it  had  been  he,  he  might  have  had  his  hands  full ;  for  I 
must  tell  you  that,  though  Great-grace  is  excellent  good  at  his 
weapons,  and  has,  and  can,  so  long  as  he  keeps  them  at  sword's  point, 
do  well  enough  with  them ;  yet  if  they  get  within  him,  even  Faint- 
heart, Mistrust,  or  the  other,  it  shall  go  hard  but  they  will  throw  up 
his  heels ;  and  when  a  man  is  down,  you  know,  what  can  he  do  ? 
Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-grace's  face,  will  see  those  scars 
and  cuts  there  that  shall  easily  give  demonstration  of  what  I  say. 
Yea,  once  I  heard  that  he  should  say  (and  that  when  he  was  in  the 
combat),  "  We  despaired  even  of  life  "  (2  Cor.  i:  8).  How  did  these 
sturdy  rogues  and  their  fellows  make  David  groan,  mourn,  and  roar! 
Yea,  Heman  and  Hezekiah  too,  though  champions  in  their  days,  were 
forced  to  bestir  them  when  by  these  assaulted  ;  and  yet,  notwitstand- 
ing,  they  had  their  coat  soundly  brushed  by  them.  Peter,  upon  a 
time,  would  go  try  what  he  could  do ;    but,  though  some  do  say  of 


The  Kind's  Champion. — This  was  Great- 
GRACE.  He  stands  in  contrast  to  Little- 
faith.  Both  were  subjects  of  the  King, 
but  (as  Bunyan  says)  "all  the  King's  sub- 


jects are  not  his  champions."  The  strong 
are  designed  to  help  the  weak.  And  yet, 
even  Great-grace  has  need  to  be  watchful. 
The  scars  on  his  face  prove  how  real  is  the 


212  The  Pilgrims  Progress. 

him  that  he  is  the  prince  of  the  Apostles,  they  handled  him  so  that 
they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a  sorry  girl. 

Besides,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle  ;  he  is  never  out  of  hear- 
ing ;  and,  if  at  any  time  they  be  put  to  the  worst,  he,  if  possible, 
comes  in  to  help  them  ;  and  of  him  it  is  said,  "  The  sword  of  him 
that  layeth  at  him  cannot  hold ;  the  spear,  the  dart,  nor  the  haber- 
geon. He  esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as  rotten  wood.  The 
arrow  cannot  make  him  flee  ;  sling-stones  are  turned  with  him  into 
stubble.  Darts  are  counted  as  stubble  ;  he  laugheth  at  the  shaking; 
of  a  spear"  (Job  41  :  26—29).  What  can  a  man  do  in  this  case?  It  is 
true,  if  a  man  could  at  every  turn  have  Job's  horse,  and  had  skill 
and  courage  to  ride  him,  he  might  do  notable  things  ;  for  "his  neck 
is  clothed  with  thunder  ;  he  will  not  be  afraid  as  the  grasshopper  ; 
the  glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible.  He  paweth  in  the  valley,  and 
rejoiceth  in  his  strength  ;  he  goeth  on  to  meet  the  armed  men.  He 
mocketh  at  fear,  and  is  not  affrighted  ;  neither  turneth  he  back  from 
the  sword ;  the  quiver  rattleth  against  him,  the  glittering  spear  and 
the  shield.  He  swalloweth  the  ground  with  fierceness  and  rage  ; 
neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet.  He  saith 
among  the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha;  and  he  smelleth  the  battle  afar  off,  the 
thunder  of  the  captains,  and  the  shouting"  (Job  39:  19-25).  But 
for  such  footmen  as  thou  and  I  are,  let  us  never  desire  to  meet  with 
an  enemy  ;  nor  vaunt  as  if  we  could  do  better,  when  we  hear  of 
others  that  have  been  foiled  ;  nor  be  tickled  at  the  thoughts  of  our 
own  manhood,  for  such  commonly  come  by  the  worst  when  tried. 
Witness  Peter,  of  whom  I  made  mention  before  ;  he  would  swagger, 
aye,  he  would  ;  he  would,  as  his  vain  mind  prompted  him  to  say,  do 
better,  and  stand  more  for  his  Master  than  all  men  ;  but  who  so 
foiled  and  run  down  by  those  villains  as  he  ? 

conflict  sometimes  ;  and  that,  with  all  the  \  from  experience.     How  ill-prepared  had  he 

grace  that  is  supplied  to  God's  children,  the  been  for  the  assault  of  Apollvon  had  he 

best  and  bravest  of  them   may  be  brought  not    been  armed   in  the  Palace  Beautiful  I 

under  J^he  power  of  fear.faint-heartedness  and  Even  w/M  his  armor,  he  found  the  battle  to 

guilt.  be  sore  and  long,  and  for  a  time  uncertain. 

Tiiio  things  become  us  to  do. — Seeing  that  (2)  That  we  desire  of  the  King  a  convoy, 

such  are  the  perils  of  the  way,  it  behooves  us  Alone,  we  cannot  safely  walk;    alone,  we 

that  we  take  all  due  precaution  ere  we  commit  cannot  fight  and  be  victorious.     We  must 

ourselves  to  the  journey,  and  that  we  give  seek  the  presence  and  providence  of  God  to 

■^U  diligence,  when,  having  begun,  we  pro-  1  attend  us  in  all  the  stages  of  our  pilgrimage 

ceed  upon  the  pilgrimage.  — "  If  thy  presence  go  not  with  me,  carry  us 

(i)  The  first  counsel  is,  that  we  be  har-  \  not  up  hence!"     In  times  of  war,  the  pre- 

nessed  for  the  way.    Here  Christian  speaks  ;  cious  craft  and  cargo  are  convoyed  across 


^/^■7>T4<;^jl,jy^rt,fl.^AfjiA&ANA^Irtrtswrf»tfM4^-Mrf«4aM^^  <,M,t«rt,h^^i^rt*.i^iaaaAfciiim tiBiiiWi 


\AMy^ttAASi\  i\A^lHMMi^Md^^r\ 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  DELIVERED  FROM  THE  NET.  213 


214 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


When  therefore  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are  done  on  the 
King's  highway,  two  things  become  us  to  do  :  first  to  go  out  har 
ncssed,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  a  shield  with  us  ,  for  it  was  for  want 
of  that,  that  he  who  laid  so  lustily  at  Leviathan  could  not  make  him 
yield  ;  for,  indeed,  if  that  be  wanting,  he  fears  us  not  at  all.  There- 
fore he  that  had  skill  hath  said,  "Above  all,  take  the  shield  of  faith, 
wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of  the 
wicked"  (Eph.  6:  i6). 

It  is  good  also  that  we  desire  of  the  King  a  convoy  ;  yea,  that 
he  will  go  with  us  himself.  This  made  David  rejoice  when  in  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  Death  ;  and  Moses  was  rather  for  dying 
where  he  stood  than  to  go  one  step  without  his  God.  O  my 
brother,  if  he  will  but  go  along  with  us,  what  need  w^e  be  afraid  of 
ten  thousands  that  shall  set  themselves  against  us?  but  without  him 
the  proud  helpers  "  fall  under  the  slain"  (Exod.  ■^i:  15  ;  Ps.  3  :  5-8 ; 
27  :  1-3  ;  Isa.  10  :  4). 

I,  for  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now  ;  and  though, 
through  the  goodness  of  Him  that  is  best,  I  am,  as  you  see,  alive,  yet 
I  cannot  boast  of  my  manhood.  Glad  shall  I  be  if  I  meet  with  no 
more  such  brunts;  though  I  fear  we  are  not  got  beyond  all  danger. 
However,  since  the  lion  and  the  bear  have  not  as  yet  devoured  me,  I 
hope  God  will  also  deliver  us  from  the  next  uncircumcised  Philistine 
(i  Sam.  17:   Tj"]^.     Then  sang  ChrisUan  : 

Poor  Little-faith  !  hast  been  among  the  thieves  ? 
Wast  robbed  ?     Remember  this,  whoso  beheves. 
And  get  more  faith  ;  then  shall  you  victors  be 
Over  ten  thousand  ;  else  scarce  over  three. 

So  they  went  on,  and  Ignorance  followed.  They  went  then  till 
they  came  at  a  place  where  they  saw  a  way  put  itself  in  their  way,  and 
seemed  withal  to  lie  as  straight  as  the  way  which  they  should  go. 


the  seas,  and  in  dangerous  journeys  escorts 
are  furnished  to  conduct  the  caravans  of 
pilgrims.  So  in  the  Christian  pilgrimage, 
all  times  and  places  are  fraught  with  danger  ; 
and  the  provision  of  help  is  everywhere  and 
always  a  wise  precaution.  This  will  be  more 
clearly  seen  in  the  second  part  of  the  Pro- 
gress, where  Great-heart  escorts  the  sec- 
ond Pilgrimage  to  the  journey's  end. 

They    saw    a    w.iy. — Another     seeming 
parallel   presents  itself.     But  at   this  point 


the  two  roads  seem  to  be  so  equally  straight 
as  to  cause  the  Pilgrims  to  "stand  still  to 
consider."  It  is  plain  that  now  they  "  le.in 
to  their  own  understanding  ;"  for,  instead  uf 
pausing  to  take  counsel  with  each  other,  they 
ought  to  have  consulted  the  map  of  the  way 
which  had  been  given  them  by  the  Shep- 
herds. This  they  failed  to  do;  and  thus 
one  of  the  great  lessons  of  the  past  was 
despised  or  forgotten.  So,  in  the  moment 
of  their  perplexity,  Satan  appears,  having 


The  Flatterer  beguiles  the  Pilgrims.  215 

A.nd  here  they  knew  not  which  of  the  two  to  take,  for  both  seemed 
straight  before  them ;  therefore  here  they  stood  still  to  consider. 
And,  as  they  were  thinking  about  the  way,  behold  a  man  black  of 
Hesh,  but  covered  with  a  very  light  robe,  came  to  them  and  asked 
them  why  they  stood  there  ?  They  answered  they  were  going  to  the 
Celestial  City,  but  knew  not  which  of  these  ways  to  take.  Follow 
me,  said  the  man  ;  it  is  thither  that  I  am  going.  So  they  followed 
him  in  the  way  that  but  now  came  into  the  road,  which  by  degrees 
turned,  and  turned  them  so  far  from  the  city  that  they  desired  to  go 
to,  that  in  a  little  time  their  faces  were  turned  away  from  it ;  yet  they 
followed  him.  But  by-and-by,  before  they  were  aware,  he  led  them 
both  within  the  compass  of  a  net,  in  which  they  were  both  so  entangled 
that  they  knew  not  what  to  do ;  and  with  that  the  white  robe  fell  off 
the  black  man's  back ;  then  they  saw  where  they  were.  Wherefore 
there  they  lay  crying  some  time,  for  they  could  not  get  themselves 
out. 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  do  I  see  myself  in  an  error. 
Did  not  the  Shepherds  bid  us  beware  of  the  Flatterer?  As  is  the 
saying  of  the  wise  man,  so  we  have  found  it  this  day,  "A  man  who 
flattereth  his  neighbor  spreadetha  net  for  his  feet" (Prov.  29:  5). 

Hope.  They  also  gave  us  a  note  of  directions  about  the  way,  for 
our  more  sure  finding  thereof ;  but  therein  we  have  also  forgotten  to 
read,  and  have  not  kept  ourselves  from  "  the  path  of  the  destroyer." 
HereDavidwas  wiserthanwe;  for,saith  he,  "Concerning the  works 
of  men,  by  the  word  of  thy  lips  I  have  kept  me  from  the  paths  of  the 
destroyer"  (Ps.  17:  4).  Thus  they  lay  bewailing  themselves  in  the 
net.  At  last  they  espied  a  Shining  One  coming  towards  them  with  a 
whip  of  small  cords  in  his  hand.     When  he  was  come  to  the  place 


transformed  himself  into  the  appearance  of 
an  angel  of  light. 

"  Though  he  seems  so  bright  and  fair, 
Ere  thou  trust  his  proffered  care, 
Pause  a  little,  and  beware  1 " 

They  followed  him. — This  departure  from 
the  right  way  was  not  because  of  any  desire 
to  choose  an  easier  path,  nor  for  the  avoid- 
ance of  any  hardship  or  difficulty,  nor  for 
any  apparent  superiority  of  one  road  above 
the  other,  but  simply  through  the  Pilgrim's 


had  been  given  them  for  the  solution  of  such 
perplexities.  Their  sin  was,  not  that  they 
paused  to  consider,  but  that  they  omitted  to 
consult  the  map.  This  "  note  of  the  way  " 
is  the  Bible,  in  its  higher  and  more  spiritual 
direction  to  advanced  pilgrims,  who,  by 
reason  of  their  exercised  experience,  are 
exposed  to  the  more  subtle  and  spiritual 
temptations  of  the  Evil  One. 

In  this,  the  Pilgrims  had,  moreover,  ne- 
glected the  second  kindly  counsel  of  the 
Shepherds — "to  beware    of  the    flatterer." 


forgetfulness  of  the  counsel  of  the  Shepherds.  Thus  they  had  committed  two  evils — in  re- 
They  were  in  doubt,  and  needed  some  one  |  jecting  the  counsel  of  God,  and  in  accepting 
to  advise  them.     The  "  note  of  the  way  "  i  the  counsel  of  Satan. 


216 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


where  they  were,  he  asked  them  whence  they  came,  and  what  they 
did  there  ?  They  told  him  that  they  were  poor  pilgrims  going-  to 
Zion,  but  were  led  out  of  their  way  by  a  black  man  clothed  in  white, 
who  bid  us,  said  they,  follow  him,  for  he  was  going  thither  too.  Then 
said  he  with  the  whip.  It  is  a  flatterer,  "a  false  apostle,  that  hath 
transformed  himself  into  an  angel  of  light"  (2  Cor.  11  :  13-15  ; 
Dan.  II  :  32).  So  he  rent  the  net  and  let  the  men  out.  Then 
said  he  to  them,  Follow  me,  that  I  may  set  you  in  your  way 
again  ;  so  he  led  them  back  to  the  way  they  had  left  to  follow  the 
Flatterer.  Then  he  asked  them,  saying,  Where  did  you  lie  the  last 
night?  They  said,  With  the  Shepherds  upon  the  Delectable  Moun- 
tains. He  asked  them  then  if  they  had  not  of  the  shepherds  a  note 
of  directions  for  the  way  ?  They  answered.  Yes.  But  did  you  not, 
said  he,  when  you  were  at  a  stand,  pluck  out  and  read  your  note? 
They  answered,  No.  He  then  asked  them.  Why  ?  They  said  they 
forgot.  He  asked  them,  moreover,  if  the  Shepherds  did  not  bid 
them  beware  of  the  Flatterer?  They  answered  Yes;  but  we  did 
not  imagine,  said  they,  that  this  fine-spoken  man  had  been  he  (Rom. 
16:   17,  18). 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  commanded  them  to  lie  down ; 
which  when  they  did,  he  chastised  them  sore,  to  teach  them  the  good 
way  wherein  they  should  walk  (Deut.  25:  2;  2  Chron.  6:  26,  27);  and 
as  he  chastised  them  he  said,  "As  many  as  I  love,  I  rebuke  and 
chasten;  be  zealous  therefore,  and  repent"  (Rev.  3:  19).  This  done, 
he  bids  them  go  on  their  way,  and  take  good  heed  to  the  other  direc- 
tions of  the  Shepherds.  So  they  thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness, 
and  went  softly  along  the  right  way,  singing — 

Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way. 
See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray  ; 
They  catched  are  in  an  entangled  net, 
'Cause  they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget ; 
'Tis  true,  they  rescued  were,  but  yet,  you  see. 
They're  scourged  to  boot ;  let  this  your  caution  be. 


Accordingly,  chastisement  follows ;  yet 
not  in  judgment,  but  in  mercy.  God  always 
grieves,  with  a  true  Father's  tenderness,  to 
see  his  children  go  astray;  and,  rather  than 
give  them  over  to  their  sin,  he  follows  to 
reclaim  them.  This  Shining  One,  with  a 
whip  of  small  cords,  is  the  Fatherhood  of 
God,  dealing  with  his  erring  children.     His 


chastisement  is  love.  These  stripes  and 
scourges  are  not  for  his  pleasure,  but  "  for 
our  profit,  that  we  might  be  partakers  of  his 
hohness"  (Heb.  12:   10). 

His  name  was  Atheist. — This  second  dan- 
ger was  also  foreseen  by  the  Shepherds,  and 
a  timely  caution  given  to  beware.  How  dif- 
ferent are  the  temptations  of  the  way  !    One 


The  Pilgnms  vieet  zvilh  Atheist. 


21? 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  MEET  WITH  ATHEIST. 

Now  after  a  while  they  perceived  afar  off  one  coming  softly  and 
alone,  all  along  the  highway,  to  meet  them.  Then  said  Christian  to 
his  fellow.  Yonder  is  a  man  with  his  back  towards  Zion,  and  he  is 
coming  to  meet  us. 

Hope.  I  see  him ;  let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves  now,  lest  he 
should  prove  a  Flatterer  also. 

So  he  drew  nearer,  and  at  last  came  up  to  them.  His  name  was 
Atheist ;  and  he  asked  them  whither  they  were  going? 

Chr.    We  are  going  to  Mount  Zion. 


beguiles  the  Pilgrims  into  snares  by  flattering 
words ;  while  another  laughs  to  scorn  the 
hope  of  the  pilgrimage. 

Atheist  would  fain  laugh  down  the  evi- 
dence of  faith,  because  he  has  not  j^(?«  the  bet- 
ter land  with  his  bodily  eyes.  His  only  argu- 
ment is  ridicule  ;  his  only  evidence  is  sight. 
He  believes  no  future  harvests,  because  he 
iees  not  the  golden  sheaves  in  the  seed  time. 


He  receives  not  the  bank-note,  because  he 
sees  not  the  substance  of  its  promise.     But 
"faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for, 
the   evidence    of    things   not   seen"  (Heb 
II  :   I). 

And  this  faith — trusting,  believing,  far- 
seeing  faith — sustains  the  Pilgrims.  "  Did 
we  not  see  from  the  Delectable  ]\ fountains 
the  gate  of  the  City  ?"     Yes,  with  the  quick- 


218 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Then  Atheist  fell  into  a  very  great  laughter. 

Chk.    What  is  the  meaning  of  your  laughter? 

Ath.  I  laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you  are,  to  take  upon 
you  so  tedious  a  journey,  and  yet  are  like  to  have  nothing  but  your 
travel  for  your  pains. 

Chr.    Why,  man?  do  you  think  we  shall  not  be  received? 

Ath.  Received  !  there  is  not  such  a  place  as  you  dream  of  in  all 
this  world. 

Chr.    But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come. 

Ath.  When  I  was  at  home  in  mine  own  country,  I  heard  as  you 
now  affirm,  and  from  that  hearing  went  out  to  see,  and  have  been 
seeking  this  city  these  twenty  years,  but  find  no  more  of  it  than  I  did 
the  first  day  I  set  out  (Eccl.  lo:  15;  Jer.  17:  15). 

Chr.  We  have  both  heard  and  believe  that  there  is  such  a  place 
to  be  found. 

Ath.  Had  not  I  when  at  home  believed,  I  had  not  come  thus  far 
to  seek  ;  but  finding  none  (and  yet  I  should,  had  there  been  such  a 
place  to  be  found,  for  I  have  gone  to  seek  it  farther  than  you),  I  am 
going  back  again,  and  will  seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things  that 
I  then  cast  away  for  hopes  of  that  which  I  now  see  is  not. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  his  companion,  Is  it  true  which 
this  man  hath  said  ? 

Hope.  Take  heed,  he  is  one  of  the  Flatterers  ;  remember  what 
it  hath  cost  us  once  already  for  hearkening  to  such  kind  of  fellows. 
What!  no  Mount  Zion !  Did  we  not  see  from  the  Delectable 
Mountains  the  gate  of  the  city?  Also,  are  we  not  now  to  walk  by 
faith?  (2  Cor.  5  :  7).  Let  us  go  on,  lest  the  man  with  the  whip  over- 
take us  again.  You  should  have  taught  me  that  lesson  which  I  will 
round  you  in  the  ears  withal :  "  Cease,  my  son,  to  hear  the  instruc- 
tion that  causeth  to  err  from  the  words  of  knowledge"  (Prov.  19  :  27). 


ened  eye  of  Faith  they  had  spiritually  seen 
the  land  afar  off.  This  is  the  privilege  of 
God's  own  children.  "  Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  the  things  which  God  hath 
prepared;"  therefore  Atheist  cannot  see 
the  end  of  the  journey.  "  But  God  hath 
revealed  them  unio  us  by  his  Spirit ;  "  there- 
fore Christian  and  Hopeful  have  seen  the 
land  and  the  good  things  which  God  hath 
prepared  "  for  them  that  love  him  "  (i  Cor. 
2:   10,  II). 


This  evidence  of  their  faith  cannot  be 
overthrown — "  Did  we  not  see  the  gate  of 
the  City?"  Thus  true  experimental  faith 
can  answer  the  objections  of  unbelievers 
It  is  the  inner  testimony,  the  witness  of  the 
heart.  This  answer  was  not  designed  to  con- 
vince Atheist,  but  to  strengthen  their  own 
consistency,  and  to  assist  them  to  "  beware 
of  the  flatterer."  Such  is  the  value  of  these 
blessed  views  revealed  by  faith  :  they  com- 
municate present  joy,  and  inspire  future 
confidence.     One  such  vision  of  the  other- 


Leaviiig  Atkeisi. 


219 


I  say,  my  brother,  cease  to  hear  him,  and  let  us  "  beheve  to  the  sav- 
ing of  the  soul  "  (Heb.  lo  :  39). 

Chk.  My  brother,  I  did  not  put  the  question  to  thee  for  that  I 
doubted  of  the  truth  of  our  belief  myself,  but  to  prove  thee,  and  to 
fetch  from  thee  a  proof  of  the  honesty  of  thy  heart.  As  for  this 
man,  I  know  that  he  is  blinded  by  "the  god  of  this  world."  Let  thee 
and  me  go  on,  knowing  that  we  have  belief  of  the  truth,  and  "no 
lie  is  of  the  truth"  (i  John  2  :  21). 

Hope.  Now  do  I  "  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God."  So 
they  turned  away  from  the  man,  and  he,  laughing  at  them,  went 
his  way. 

I  then  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  until  they  came  into 
a  certain  country  whose  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy,  if 
he  came  a  stranger  into  it.  And  here  Hopeful  began  to  be  very 
dull  and  heavy  to  sleep ;  wherefore  he  said  unto  Christian,  I  do  now 
begin  to  grow  so  drowsy  that  I  can  scarcely  hold  open  mine  eyes ; 
let  us  lie  down  here,  and  take  one  nap. 

By  no  means,  said  the  other,  lest  sleeping  we  never  awake 
more. 

Hope.  Why  not,  my  brother?  sleep  is  sweet  to  the  laboring 
man  ;  we  may  be  refreshed  if  we  take  a  nap. 

Chr.  Do  not  you  remember  that  one  of  the  Shepherds  bid  us 
beware  of  the  Enchanted  Ground?  He  meant  by  that,  that  we 
should  beware  of  sleeping.  "  Wherefore  let  us  not  sleep,  as  do 
others  ;  but  let  us  watch  and  be  sober"  (i  Thess.  5:6). 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  myself  in  a  fault;  and,  had  I  been  here 
alone,  I  had  by  sleeping  run  the  danger  of  death.  I  see  it  is  true 
that  the  wise  man  saith,  "Two  are  better  than  one"  (Eccl.  4:  9). 
Hitherto  hath  thy  company  been  my  mercy  ;  and  thou  shalt  "  have  a 
good  reward  for  thy  labor." 


wise  Unseen  is  calculated  to  dispel  a  thou- 
sand doubts  of  unbelief.  If  it  be  not  an 
answer  to  the  world,  it  is  a  sufficient  answer 
to  one's  own  soul,  sustaining  the  spirit  of 
faith  and  hope  and  confidence  in  God. 
Oh,  for  such  faith  as  Moses  had !  "  for  he 
endured,  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible." 

The  Enchanted  Ground. — The  third  cau- 
tion of  the  Shepherds  is  now  brought  to 
mind — "  to  take  heed  that  they  slept  not  on 
the  Enchanted  Ground."  The  Pilgrims  have 
now    entered   on   that  region   of   country, 


and  they  feel  the  spirit  of  slumber  steal 
softly  over  them,  and  their  eyes  are  heavy 
with  sleep.  Christian  exhorts  his  comrade 
to  be  wakeful  and  vigilant. 

The  Enchanted  Ground  means — politically 
— the  mitigation  of  penalties  and  persecu- 
tions; when  ease  and  liberty  are  enjoyed, 
and  the  Church  has  rest  from  strife.  This 
is  a  season  fraught  with  danger,  lest  a  spirit 
of  soft  and  luxurious  ease  should  take  the 
place  of  former  vigilance  and  watchfulness 
Spiritually  (and  here  is  its  real  significance), 


220 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Now,  then,  said  Christian,  to  prevent  drowsiness  in  this  place, 
let  us  fall  into  good  discourse. 

With  all  my  heart,  said  the  other. 
Chr.    Where  shall  we  begin  ? 

Where  God  began   with  us ;  but  do  you  begir.,  i'  you 


Hope 
please. 
Chr. 


I  will  sing  you  first  this  song : 

When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  them  come  hither. 
And  hear  how  these  two  pilgrims  talk  together : 
Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them  in  any  wise. 
Thus  to  keep  ope  their  drowsy,  slumbering  eyes. 
Saints'  fellowship,  if  it  be  managed  well, 
Keeps  them  awake,  and  that  in  spite  of  hell. 


How 


Then  Christian  began,  and  said,  I  will  ask  you  a  question 
came  you  to  think  at  first  of  doing  as  you  do  now? 

Hope.  Do  you  mean,  how  came  I  at  first  to  look  after  the  good 
of  my  soul  ? 

Chr.    Yes,  that  is  my  meaning. 

Hope.  I  continued  a  great  while  in  the  delight  of  those  things 
which  were  seen  and  sold  at  our  fair ;  things  which  I  believe  now 
would  have,  had  I  continued  in  them  still,  drowned  me  in  perdition 
and  destruction. 

Chr.    What  things  were  they  ? 

Hope.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  world.  Also  I 
delighted  much  in  rioting,  revelling,  drinking,  swearing,  lying,  un 


the  Enchanted  Ground  is  meant  to  indicate 
such  seasons  of  worldly  prosperity  as  tend 
to  render  Christian  men  careless  and  "  at 
ease  in  Zion."  How  often  have  men  fallen 
from  the  consistency  of  the  Christian  walk, 
when  visited  with  the  sunshine  of  temporal 
success !  "  Give  me  not  riches,"  said  one  of 
old,  "lest  I  be  full,  and  deny  thee,  and  say. 
Who  is  the  Lord  ?  "  (Prov.  30  :  8,  9). 

Such  is  the  position  of  our  Pilgrims  at 
this  stage  of  their  journey.  They  are  repre- 
sented as  tarrying  for  a  time  in  a  land  of 
luxury  and  ease.  They  need  to  "  watch 
and  be  sober."  The  whole  tendency  of 
such  a  season  is  in  the  direction  of  sloth 
and  slumber  and  forgetfulness  of  God.  To 
resist  this  temptation,  they  resort  to  the 
blessed  expedient  of  Christian  communion 
and  fellowship   of  saints.     Soft  indulgence 


tends  to  blunt  the  keen  edge  of  Christian 
experience;  but,  in  Christian  communion 
"iron  sharpeneth  iron."  It  is  highly  profit 
able  to  the  soul's  health  to  review  the  past, 
to  remember  the  days  of  old,  and  to  call  to 
remembrance  the  way  in  which  the  Lord 
hath  led  us. 

Where  God  began  with  us. — In  this  godly 
intercourse,  we  do  well  to  begin,  as  the  Pil- 
grims did,  "  where  God  began  with  us."  This 
conversation  conducts  us  through  the  past 
experiences  of  Hopeful — from  his  former 
darkness  to  his  present  enjoyment  of  light 
in  the  Lord. 

Hopeful  was  once  an  inhabitant  of  Vanity 
Fair;  in  all  respects  conformed  to  the  vani 
ties  of  that  sinful  place.     His  observation  of 
Christian  and  Faithful  first  led  him  on 
the  way  towards  newness  of  life.     He  began, 


Hopeful  tells  his  Experience. 


221 


cleanness,  Sabbath-breaking,  and  what  not,  that  tended  to  destroy 
the  soul.  But  I  found,  at  last,  by  hearing  and  considering  of  things 
that  are  Divine,  which  indeed  I  heard  of  you,  as  also  of  beloved 
Faithful  that  was  put  to  death  for  his  faith  and  good  living  in  Vanity 
Fair,  "that  the  end  of  these  things  is  death;"  and  that  "for  these 
things'  sake  the  wrath  of  God  cometh  upon  the  children  of  disobe- 
dience "  (Rom.  6:  21-23;  Eph.  5:   6). 

Chr.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of  this 
conviction  ? 

Hope.  No,  I  was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the  evil  of  sin,  nor 
the  damnation  that  follows  upon  the  commission  of  it ;  but  endeav- 
ored, when  my  mind  at  first  began  to  be  shaken  with  the  word,  to 
shut  mine  eyes  against  the  light  thereof. 

Chr.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it  thus  to  the 
first  workings  of  God's  blessed  Spirit  upon  you  ? 

Hope.  The  causes  were:  (i)  I  was  ignorant  that  this  was  the 
work  of  God  upon  me.  I  never  thought  that  by  awakenings  for  sin 
God  at  first  begins  the  conversion  of  a  sinner.  (2)  Sin  was  yet  very 
sweet  to  my  flesh,  and  I  was  loath  to  leave  it.  (3)  I  could  not  tell  how 
to  part  with  mine  old  companions,  their  presence  and  actions  were  so 
desirable  unto  me.  (4)  The  hours  in  which  convictions  came  upon 
me  were  such  troublesome  and  such  heart-affrighting  hours,  that  I 
could  not  bear,  no,  not  so  much  as  the  remembrance  of  them  upon 
my  heart. 

Chr.    Then,  as  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  rid  of  your  trouble. 

Hope.  Yes,  verily,  but  it  would  come  into  my  mind  again  ;  and 
then  I  would  be  as  bad,  nay,  worse  than  I  was  before. 

Chr.    Why,  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to  mind  again  ? 


as  most  men  begin,  by  strong  conviction  of 
his  sin,  and  of  his  consequent  danger.  He, 
however,  sought  to  stifle  these  convictions, 
and  to  bhnd  himself  to  the  real  peril  of 
his  state.  He  tells  us  what  were  the  chief 
causes  of  this  resistance  to  the  strivings  of 
the  Spirit. 

(i)  His  ignorance  of  God's  mode  of  opera- 
tion. He  had  never  trod  this  path  before, 
and  his  carnal  heart  would  not  admit  that 
this  was  God's  work  in  his  soul.  He  thought 
not  that  God  would  accomplish  the  cleansing 
of  his  conscience  by  first  stirring  it  to  its 
depths,  and  revealing  all  its  hidden  defile- 
ment, 


(2)  Sin  was  yet  sweet  to  his  taste.  Sin  had 
struck  its  fibres  deep  into  his  soul,  and  had 
twined  itself  around  the  affections  of  his 
heart.  Therefore  he  was  loath  to  leave  it. 
Alas !  these  fondled  sins,  these  idols  of  the 
heart — how  they  gather  round  us,  and  do  so 
easily  beset  us,  and  hinder  us  in  running  the 
race  that  is  set  before  us  ! 

(3)  Unwillingness  to  part  with  old  com- 
panions. As  are  our  sins  so  are  our  partners 
in  sin.  Friendships  are  formed,  and  we  are 
unwilling  to  abandon  them  ;  and  the  com- 
panionships being  unchanged,  the  soul  con- 
tinues in  the  bond  of  iniquity.  Such  are  the 
stern   demands   of  righteousness,   that  sin 


222  The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

Hope.  Many  things  ;  as,  if  I  did  not  but  meet  a  good  man  in  the 
street ;  or  if  I  have  heard  and  read  in  the  Bible  ;  or  if  mine  head  did 
begin  to  ache  ;  or  if  I  were  told  that  some  of  my  neighbors  were  sick; 
or  if  I  heard  the  bell  toll  for  some  that  were  dead  ;  or  if  I  thought  of 
dying  myself;  or  if  I  heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to  others ; 
but  especially  when  I  thought  of  myself,  that  I  must  quickly  come  to 
judgment. 

Chr.  And  could  you  at  any  time,  with  ease,  get  off  the  guilt  of 
sin,  when  by  any  of  these  ways  it  came  upon  you  ? 

Hope.  No,  not  I;  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of  my  conscience; 
and  then,  if  I  did  but  think  of  going  back  to  sin  (though  my  mind 
was  turned  against  it),  it  would  be  double  torment  to  me. 

Chr.    And  how  did  you  then  ? 

Hope.  I  thought  I  must  endeavor  to  mend  my  life ;  for  else, 
thought  I,  I  am  sure  to  be  damned. 

Chr.    And  did  you  endeavor  to  mend  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  fled  from  not  only  my  sins,  but  sinful  company 
too,  and  betook  me  to  religious  duties,  as  praying,  reading,  weeping 
for  sin,  speaking  truth  to  my  neighbors,  etc.  These  things  did  I 
with  many  others,  too  much  here  to  relate. 

Chr.    And  did  you  think  yourself  well  then  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  for  a  while  ;  but  at  the  last  my  trouble  came  tumbling 
upon  me  again,  and  that  over  the  neck  of  all  my  reformations. 

Chr.    How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now  reformed? 

Hope.  There  were  several  things  brought  it  upon  me,  espe- 
cially such  sayings  as  these:  "All  our  rigliteousnesses  are  as  filthy 
rags  ;"  "By  the  works  of  the  law  shall  no  man  be  justified  ;"  "When 
ye  have  done  all  these  things,  say,  We  are  unprofitable  ;"  with  many 
more  such  like  (Isa.  64:  6;  Gal.  2:  16;  Luke  17:  10).  From  whence 
I  began  to  reason  with  myself  thus :  If  all  my  righteousnesses  are  as 
filthy  rags  ;  if  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  can  be  justified  ;  and  if, 
when  we  have  done  all,  we  are  yet  unprofitable,  then  it  is  but  a 
folly  to  think  of  heaven  by  the  law.  I  further  thought  thus:  If  a  man 
runs  a  hundred  pounds  into  the  shopkeeper's  debt,  and  after  that 


must  be  plucked  up,  even  to  the  last,  the 
least,  the  lowest  fibre  of  its  root. 

(4)  The  seasons  of  conviction   were  sore 
and  trying  ;  and  therefore  he  sought  to  be  rid 


when  brought  face  to  face  with  its  own  sins 
and  forced  to  fight  its  fierce  battle  of  con- 
viction ! 

Such  were  the  strivings  of  Hopeful's  con- 


of  them,  as  one  would  be  rid  of  unquiet  science ;  at  one  time  rampant,  at  another 
hours,  and  days  of  anguish  and  sore  afflic-  !  time  restrained ;  rising  to  convulsive  throes 
tion.     Ah,  what  a  coward  is  the  conscience  I   as  circumstances  provoked  its  sensitiveness. 


Hopeftirs  Experience.  223 

shall  pay  for  all  that  he  shall  fetch  ;  yet,  his  old  debt  stands  still  in  the 
book  uncrossed,  for  the  which  the  shopkeeper  may  sue  him,  and  cast 
him  into  prison  till  he  shall  pay  the  debt. 

Chr.    Well,  and  how  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself? 

Hope.  Why,  I  thought  this  with  myself:  I  have  by  my  sins  run  a 
great  way  into  God's  book,  and  that  my  now  reforming  will  not  pay 
off  that  score;  therefore  I  should  think  still,  under  all  my  present 
amendments,  but  how  shall  I  be  freed  from  that  damnation,  that  I 
brought  myself  in  danger  of  by  my  former  transgressions? 

Chr.    a  very  good  application  ;  but  pray  go  on. 

Hope.  Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me,  even  since  my  late 
amendments,  is,  that  if  I  look  narrowly  into  the  best  of  what  I  do  now, 
I  still  see  sin,  new  sin,  mixing  itself  with  the  best  of  what  I  do;  so 
that  I  am  forced  to  conclude  that,  notwithstanding  my  former  fond 
conceits  of  myself  and  duties,  I  have  committed  sin  enough  in  one 
duty  to  send  me  to  hell,  though  my  former  life  had  been  faultless. 

Chr.    And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  Do  !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  till  I  brake  my  mind  to 
Faithful ;  for  he  and  I  were  well  acquainted.  And  he  told  me  that 
unless  I  could  obtain  the  righteousness  of  a  man  that  never  had 
sinned,  neither  mine  own,  nor  all  the  righteousness  of  the  world, 
could  save  me. 

Chr.    And  did  you  think  he  spake  true  ? 

Hope.  Had  he  told  me  so  when  I  was  pleased  and  satisfied 
with  mine  own  amendments,  I  had  called  him  fool  for  his  pains ; 
but  now  since  I  see  mine  own  infirmity,  and  the  sin  which  cleaves  to 
my  best  performance,  I  have  been  forced  to  be  of  his  opinion. 

Chr.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested  it  to  you, 
that  there  was  such  a  man  to  be  found,  of  whom  it  might  justly  be 
said  that  he  never  committed  sin  ? 

Hope.  I  must  confess  the  words  at  first  sounded  strangely  ;  but 
after  a  little  more  talk  and  company  with  him,  I  had  full  conviction 
about  it. 

Chr.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  man  this  was,  and  how  you 
must  be  justified  by  him? 


What  a  creature  of  circumstances  is  an  awak- 
ened conscience !  As  Madarrie  de  Stael 
observes,  "The  voice  of  conscience  is  so 
delicate  that  it  is  easy  to  stifle  it ;  but  it  is 
also  so  clear  that  it  is  impossible  to  mistake 


it."     Ty<*'''vght  of  a  good  man,  the  testimony   '   sinner, 


of  a  verse  of  Scripture,  an  aching  head,  a 
trifling  illness,  a  toUing  bell,  a  passing 
funeral  a  serious  reflection,  or  a  thought  of 
death — any  of  these  would  suffice  to  revive 
the  power  of  conscience  in  the  awakened 


224 


The  Pilgriius  Progress. 


HOPEFUL  TELLS  CHRISTIAN  HIS  EXPERIENCE. 

Hope.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  dwelleth  on 
the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High  (Rom.  4;  Col,  i;  Heb.  10;  2  Pet.  i); 
and  thus,  said  he,  you  must  be  justified  by  him,  even  by  trusting  to  what 
he  hath  done  by  himself,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  and  suffered  when 
he  did  hang-  on  the  tree.  I  asked  him  further  how  that  man's 
righteousness  could  be  of  such  efficacy  as  to  justify  another  before 
God.  And  he  told  me  he  was  the  mighty  God,  and  did  what  he  did, 
and  died  the  death  also,  not  for  himself,  but  for  me,  to  whom  his 
doings,  and  the  worthiness  of  them,  should  be  imputed,  if  I  believed 
on  him. 


Hopeful,  thus  pursued  by  an  unquiet 
conscience,  sought  refuge  in  reformation  of 
life.  He  left  off  doing  evil  and  applied  him- 
self to  the  performance  of  religious  duties. 


This  was  a  step  in  the  right  direction,  but  it 
was  not  everything.  Sin  must  be  dealt 
with,  not  only  as  to  its  outward  fruits,  but 
also  as  to  its  innermost  root      If  the  foun- 


Hopeful's  Experience. 


225 


Chr.    And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  I  made  my  objections  against  my  beheving,  for  that  I 
thought  he  Was  not  willing  to  save  me. 

Chr.   And  what  said  Faithful  to  you  then  ? 

Hope.  He  bid  me  go  to  him  and  see  (Matt,  ii  :  28).  Then  I 
said  it  was  presumption.  He  said,  No;  for  I  was  invited  to  come. 
Then  he  gave  me  a  book  of  Jesus's  inditing,  to  encourage  me  the 
more  freely  to  come  ;  and  he  said  concerning  that  book,  that  every 
jot  and  tittle  thereof  stood  firmer  than  heaven  and  earth  (Matt.  24: 
35).  Then  I  asked  him  what  I  must  do  when  I  came.  And  he  told 
me,  I  must  entreat  upon  my  knees,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  the 
Father  to  reveal  him  to  me  (Ps.  95  :  6 ;  Jer.  29  :  12,  13  ;  Dan.  6:  10). 
Then  I  asked  him  further,  how  I  must  make  my  supplications  to  him. 
And  he  said,  go,  and  thou  shalt  find  him  upon  a  mercy-seat,  where  he 
sits  all  the  year  long,  to  give  pardon  and  forgiveness  to  them  that 
come  (Exod.  n^  :  22  ;  Lev.  16:  2  ;  Heb.  4:  16).  I  told  him  that  I 
knew  not  w'xat  to  say  when  I  came.  And  he  bid  me  say  to  this 
effect:  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,"  and  "make  me  to  know 
and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ;  for  I  see  that  if  his  righteousness  had 
not  been,  or  I  have  not  faith  in  that  righteousness,  I  am  utterly  cast 
away.  Lord,  I  have  heard  that  thou  art  a  merciful  God,  and  hast 
ordained  that  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  should  be  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  ;  and,  moreover,  that  thou  art  willing  to  bestow  him  upon  such 
a  poor  sinner  as  I  am  (and  lam  a  sinner  indeed).  Lord,  take  there- 
fore this  opportunity,  and  magnify  thy  grace  in  the  salvation  of  my 
soul,  through  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.     Amen." 

Chr.    And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidden  ? 

Hope.    Yes,  over  and  over  and  over. 

Chr.    And  did  the  Father  reveal  the  Son  to  you  ? 

Hope,  No,  not  the  first,  nor  second,  nor  third,  nor  fourth,  fifth, 
no,  nor  at  the  sixth  time  neither. 

Chr.    What  did  you  then  ? 

Hope.    What !  why  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do. 


tain  be  not  cleansed,  the  stream  cannot  be 
continuously  clean.  If  the  corrupt  tree  be 
not  wholly  healed  at  the  root,  nothing  yet  is 
done. 

Bunyan  introduces  much  of  his  own  ex- 
nerience  into  this  description  of  Hopeful's 
spiritual  state.  In  his  "  Grace  Abounding" 
he   tells    of  his   own    reformation    of   life: 

15 


"Thus  I  continued  about  a  year;  all 
which  time  our  neighbors  did  take  me  to  be 
a  very  godly  man,  and  did  marvel  much  to 
see  such  a  great  and  famous  alteration  in  my 
life  and  manners  ;  and,  indeed,  so  it  was, 
thf)Ugh  yet  I  knew  not  Christ,  nor  grace,  nor 
faith,  nor  hope." 

Thus  far  had  Hopeful  attained  ;  and  yet 


226 


TJie  Pilgrivi  s  Progress, 


Chr.     Had  you  no  thoughts  of  leaving  off  praying? 

Hope,    Yes  ;  and  a  hundred  times  twice  told. 

Chr.    And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not.-* 

Hope.  I  believe  that  it  was  true  which  hath  been  told  me  :  to  wit, 
that  without  the  righteousness  of  this  Christ  all  the  world  could  not 
save  me  ;  and  therefore,  thought  I  with  myself,  If  1  leave  off  I  die,  and 
I  can  but  die  at  the  throne  of  grace.  And  withal  this  came  into  my 
mind,  ''If  it  tarry,  wait  for  it,  because  it  will  surely  come,  and  will 
not  tarry"  (Hab.  2  :  3).  So  I  continued  praying,  until  the  Father 
showed  me  his  Son. 

Chr.   And  how  was  he  revealed  unto  you  ? 

Hope.  I  did  not  see  him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but  with  the  eyes  of 
mine  understanding  (Eph.  i  :  18,  19).  And  thus  it  was:  One  day 
I  was  very  sad,  I  think  sadder  than  atany  one  timein  my  life;  and  this 
sadness  was  through  a  fresh  sight  of  the  greatness  and  vileness  of  my 
sins.  And,  as  I  was  then  looking  for  nothing  but  hell,  and  the  ever- 
lasting damnation  of  my  soul,  sudr*enly,  as  I  thought,  I  saw  the  Lord 
Jesus  looking  down  from  heaven  i\jon  me,  and  saying,  "  Believe  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  Mialt  be  saved"  (Acts  16:  30,  31). 

But  I  replied,  Lord,  I  am  a  ^reat,  a  very  great  sinner.  And  he 
answered,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee."  Then  I  said,  But,  Lord, 
what  is  believing }  And  then  I  saw,  from  that  saying,  "  He  that 
Cometh  to  me  shall  never  huf^io-er  ;  and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall 
never  thirst"  (John  6:  35)  ',  that  believing  and  coming  was  all  one  ; 
and  that  he  that  came,  that  is,  that  ran  out  in  his  heart  and  affections 
after  salvation  by  Christ,  he  indeed  believed  in  Christ.  Then  the  water 
stood  in  my  eyes,  and  I  asked  further,  But,  Lord,  may  such  a  great 
sinner  as  I  am  be  indeed  accepted  of  thee,  and  be  saved  by  thee? 
And  I  heard  him  say,  'And  him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out "  (John  6  :  ■}^']).  Then  I  said,  But  how.  Lord,  must  I  consider 
of  thee  in  my  coming  to  thee,  that  my  faith  may  be  placed  aright  upon 
thee  ?     Then  he  said,  "  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to    save 


he  was  not  satisfied  witl:  his  spiritual  pro- 
gress. Sin  was  not  uprooted;  sin  entered 
into,  and  intermingled  with,  all  his  deeds. 
.\  better  righteousness  than  his  own  must 
needs  be  provided,  if  his  soul  is  to  be  fully 
and  finally  saved.  Here  he  breaks  his  mind 
to  Faithful,  and  is  by  him  instructed  to 
seek  "the  righteousness  of  One  who  never 
had  Sinned." 


The  conversation  now  unfolds  the  great 
essential  doctrine  of  the  cross — the  imputed 
righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  had  ii^ 
sin,  but  was  "made  sin"  for  us,  "that  we 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in 
him  "  (2  Cor.  5  :  21).  Hopeful  rejoices  in 
this  precious  truth,  and  at  once  begins  t( 
seek  for  this  righteousness  ;  so  that  of  hin 
it  may  now  be  said,  "  Behold,  he  prayeth  !' 


Hopeful'' s  Experience. 


227 


sinners  ;  "  "  He  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one 
that  beheveth ; "  "  He  died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again  for  our  justifi- 
cation;" "He  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own 
blood;"  "He  is  mediator  betwixt  God  and  us;"  "He  ever  liveth 
to  make  intercession  for  us"  (i  Tim.  i  :  15;  Rom.  10:  4;  Heb.  7: 
24,  25).  From  all  which  I  gathered  that  I  must  look  for  righteous- 
ness in  his  person,  and  for  satisfaction  for  my  sins  by  his  blood  ;  and 
that  what  he  did  in  obedience  to  his  Father's  law,  and  in  submitting 
to  the  penalty  thereof,  was  not  for  himself,  but  for  him  that  will  accept 
it  for  his  salvation,  and  be  thankful.  And  now  was  my  heart  full  ot 
joy,  mine  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  mine  affections  running  over  with 
love  to  the  name,  people,  and  v/ays  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Chr.  This  was  a  revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul  indeed  ;  but 
tell  me  particularly  what  effect  this  had  on  your  spirits. 

Hope.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwithstanding  all  the 
righteousness  thereof,  is  in  a  state  of  condemnation  ;  it  made  me  see 
that  God  the  Father,  though  he  be  just,  can  justly  justify  the  coming 
sinner;  it  made  me  greatly  ashamed  of  the  vileness  of  my  former 
life,  and  confounded  me  with  the  sense  of  mine  own  ignorance ;  for 
there  never  came  a  thought  into  mine  heart  before  now  that  showed 
me  so  the  beauty  of  Jesus  Christ  ;  it  made  me  love  a  holy  life,  and 
long  to  do  something  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  name  of  the 
Lord  Jesus ;  yea,  I  thought  that,  had  I  now  a  thousand  gallons  of 
blood  in  my  body,  I  could  spill  it  all  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 


And  what  earnest  prayer,  what  wrestling 
agony,  was  this !  Undaunted  by  failure, 
again  and  again  he  prays,  and  at  last  re- 
ceives the  great  revelation  to  his  soul :  "  the 
Father  showed  me  his  Son  !  " 

What  effect  this  had. — Such  a  revelation 
of  Jesus  to  the  soul  must  surely  have  been 
confirmed  by  signs  following.  This  view  of 
Jesus  was  all  in  all  to  the  anxious,  awakened 


sinner.  It  was  the  Wicket-gate,  and  the 
view  of  the  Cross,  and  release  from  his  bur- 
den, and  pardon  and  peace — all  in  one. 
This  was  the  secret  of  that  "  brotherly  cove- 
nant," into  which  Hopeful  had  entered 
with  Christian,  when  proceeding  forth 
from  Vanity  Fair  as  his  companion  to  the 
Celestial  City. 


CHRISTIAN  INSTRUCTS  IGNORANCE 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Ignorance. 

The  Pilgrims  are  still  passing  through  the  Enchanted  Ground.  They  have  thut  fai 
in  accordance  with  the  advice  of  the  Shepherds,  resisted  the  spirit  of  slumber,  by  sustaining 
an  interesting  and  instructive  conversation  on  the  matter  of  their  spiritual  experience. 
This  vigilance  of  the  Pilgrims  is  still  further  maintained  by  a  spirited  and  suggestive 
argument  with  Ignorance,  a  man  whom  they  have  met  on  their  descent  from  the  Delec- 
table Mountains.  On  their  first  meeting  whh  him,  as  he  entered  by  the  "  little  crooked 
lane  "  from  the  Country  of  Conceit,  the  Pilgrims  had  rebuked  him  for  his  self-righteousness 
and  ignorance  of  the  conditions  of  the  Pilgrimage ;  they  had  then  gone  forward,  leaving 
him  for  a  time  to  muse  upon  their  conversation. 


SAW  then  in  my  dream,  that  Hopeful  looked  back,  and 
saw  Ignorance,  whom  they  had  left  behind,  coming  after. 
Look,  said  he  to  Christian,  how  far  yonder  youngster 
loitereth  behind. 

Chr.    Aye,   aye,  I  see   him  ;  he  careth   not  for  our 
company. 

Hope.  But  I  trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him  had  he  kept  pace 
with  us  hitherto. 

Chr.    That  is  true  ;  but  I  warrant  you  he  thinketh  otherwise. 
Hope.    That  I  think  he  doth  ;  but,  however,  let  us  tarry  for  him. 
So  they  did. 

Then  Christian  said  to  him,  Come  away,  man,  w^hy  do  you  stay 
so  behind  ? 

Ignor.  I  take  my  pleasure  in  walking  alone  ;  even  more  a  great 
deal  than  in  company,  unless  I  like  it  better. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  (but  softly),  Did  I  not  tell  you 
he  cared  not  for  our  company?  But,  however,  come  up,  and  let  us 
talk  away  the  time  in  this  solitary  place.      Then  directing  his  speech 


Saw  Igno7-ance  coming'  after. — This  man 
had  been  allowed  time  and  opportunity  to 
ponder  in  his  heart  the  things  already 
spoken  by  the  Pilgrims.  He  is,  however,  a 
stranger  to  such  teaching,  and  savoreth  not 
the  conversation  or  companionship  of  such 


men.  He  therefore  "loitereth  behind," 
seeking  rather  to  avoid  their  company,  and, 
in  his  self-sufficiency,  to  walk  alone.  Ele- 
ments that  are  unhke  do  not  easily  inter- 
mingle. When  Jesus  came  as  the  Light  into 
this  dark  world,  it  is  said:  "The  light r^un' 


(229 


230  The  Pilgi'ivis  Progress. 

to  Ignorance,  he  said,  Come,  how  do  you  do?  How  stands  it  be- 
tween God  and  your  soul  now? 

Ignor'.  I  hope  well,  for  I  am  always  full  of  good  motions,  that 
come  into  my  mind  to  comfort  me  as  I  walk.  ' 

Chr.    What  good  motions  ?     Pray  tell  us. 

Ignor.    Why,  I  think  of  God  and  heaven. 

Chr.    So  do  the  devils  and  damned  souls. 

Ignor.    But  I  think  of  them  and  desire  them. 

Chr.  So  do  many  that  are  never  like  to  come  there.  ''The 
soul  of  the  sluggard  desireth,  and  hath  nothing"  (Prov.  13:  4). 

Ignor.    But  I  think  of  them,  and  leave  all  for  them. 

Chr.  That  I  doubt ;  for  leaving  of  all  is  a  very  hard  matter  ; 
yea,  a  harder  matter  than  many  are  aware  of  But  why,  or  for  what, 
art  thou  persuaded  that  thou  hast  left  all  for  God  and  heaven  ? 

Ignor.    My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  The  wise  man  says,  "  He  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart 
is  a  fool"  (Prov.  28  :  26). 

Ignor.    That  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart,  but  mine  is  a  good  one. 

Chr.    But  how  dost  thou  prove  that  ? 

Ignor.    It  comforts  me  in  hopes  of  heaven. 

Chr.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness  ;  for  a  man's  heart 
may  minister  comfort  to  him,  in  the  hopes  of  that  thing  for  which  he 
has  yet  no  ground  to  hope. 

Ignor.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together ;  and  therefore  my 
hope  is  well  grounded. 

Chr.    Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree  together? 

Ignor.    My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.    "  Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief."     Thy  heart  tells  thee  so  ! 


eth  in  darkness  ;  and  the  darkness  compre- 
hended it  not"  (John  i:  5);  and  again, 
"  Everj'one  that  doeth  evil  hateth  the  hght, 
neither  cometh  to  the  Hght  lest  his  deeds 
should  be  reproved  "  (John  3  :  20). 

Let  us  talk  uivay  the  time. — Still  to  resist 
the  spirit  of  jlumber,  is  the  duty  of  the  Pil- 
grims, at  ^east  until  they  have  got  quite  over 
the  Enchanted  Ground.  Another  oppor- 
tunj*y  is  thus  created  in  the  Allegory  for  the 
Introduction  of  doctrinal  truth  in  contrast  to 
<he  misapprehensions  of  spiritual  ignorance. 

So  they  begin  to  question  with  Igno- 
KANCE,  and  thus  they  draw  him  out  in  con- 
versation.    The  self-satisfaction  of  this  man 


is  evident  from  the  very  outset.  "  To  think 
of  God  and  heaven  "  he  deems  to  be  the 
sum  and  substance  of  rehgion  ;  and  to  "  de- 
sire" the  possession  of  God  and  heaven,  he 
esteems  as  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
his  spiritual  state.  Poor  Ignorance  knows 
not  that  the  very  devils  "  think  "  much  of 
God,  and  that  even  the  worst  of  sinners  do 
"  desire  "  the  things  of  hea\  en. 

His  own  "  heart  "  is  the  witness  that  lays 
the  flattering  unction  to  this  man's  soul. 
But  the  heart  is  "deceitful  "  and  cannot  be 
trusted  ;  and,  besides,  it  is  not  an  independ- 
ent witness,  but  mere  self-testimony.  It 
needs  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  wit- 


Ignorance  tells  the   Grounds  of  his  Hope. 


23i 


Except  the  word  of  God   beareth  witness  in  this  matter,  other  testi- 
aiony  is  of  no  vakie. 

Ignor.  But  is  it  not  a  good  heart  that  has  good  thoughts  ?  and 
is  not  that  a  good  life  that  is  according  to  God's  commandments? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  a  good  heart  that  has  good  thoughts,  and 
that  is  a  good  hfe  that  is  according  to  God's  commandments  ;  but  it 
is  one  thing  indeed  to  have  these,  and  another  thing  only  to  think  so. 

Ignor.    Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and  a  life  accord 
inof  to  God's  commandments  ? 

Chr.  There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds  ;  some  respect- 
ing ourselves,  some  God,  some  Christ,  and  some  other  things. 

Ignor.    What  be  good  thoughts  respecting  ourselves  ? 

Chr.    Such  as  agree  with  the  Word  of  God. 

Ignor.  When  do  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree  with  the 
Word  of  God  ? 

Chr.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  ourselves  which 
the  Word  passes.  To  explain  myself:  the  Word  of  God  saith  of 
persons  in  a  natural  condition,  "There  is  none  righteous,  there  is 
none  that  doeth  good."  It  saith  also  that  "every  imagination  of  the 
heart  of  man  is  only  evil,  and  that  continually."  And  again  :  "The 
imagination  of  man's  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth"  (Gen.  6:  5;  Rom. 
3:  10).  Now,  then,  when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves,  having  sense 
thereof,  then  are  our  thoughts  good  ones,  because  according  to  the 
Word  of  God. 

Ignor.    I  will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus  bad. 

Chr.  Therefore  thou  never  hadst  one  good  thought  concerning 
thyself  in  thy  life.  But  let  me  go  on.  As  the  Word  passeth  a  judg- 
ment upon  our  hearts,  so  it  passeth  a  judgment  upon  our  ways  ;  and 
when  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts  and  ways  agree  with  the  judgment 


ness  of  the  Word,  to  tell  the  true  testimony 
respecting  our  hearts,  and  to  say  "  how  it 
stands  between  God  and  our  souls." 

Good  thoughts  r  specting  ourselves. — The 
best  thoughts  we  can  entertain  respecting  our- 
selves are,  that  we  have  no  good  thing  dwell- 
ing in  us  by  nature ;  that  the  whole  heart 
and  life  are  corrupt  and  evil ;  that  our  spir- 
itual health  is  diseased  ;  and  that  we  need  a 
Physician,  a  Helper,  a  complete  Saviour  ; 
and  that  without  this  salvation,  we  are  lost, 
and  lost  forever.  These  are  the  thoughts 
that  spring  from  "  heart-humihation,"  and 
consciousness  of  sin. 


The  self-righteous  spirit  of  the  unregen- 
erate  man  arises  from  many  secret  sources, 
deeply  laid  in  the  carnal  and  unrenewed 
heart:  (i)  from  an  overestimation  of  self — 
"the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Phari- 
sees ;"  (2)  from  an  tinder-cstimation  of  what 
God  requires  of  us — a  perfect  righteousness ; 
(3)  from  ignorance  of  self — "  thinking  our- 
selves to  be  something  when  we  are  noth- 
ing;"  and  (4)  ivom.  forgetfulness  of  our  act- 
ual condition — forgetting  ourselves  as  we 
really  are.  In  the  mirror  of  God's  Word, 
and  in  the  light  of  his  Holy  Spirit,  we  are 
permitted  to  behold  ourselves  as  in  a  glass, 


232 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


IGNORANCE  STEPS  BEHIND. 


which  the  Word  giVeth  of  both,  then  both  are  good,  because  agree- 
inor  thereto. 

Ignor.    Make  out  your  meaning. 

Chr.  Why,  the  Word  of  God  saith  that  man's  ways  are  crooKed 
ways  (Ps.  125:2);  not  good,  but  perverse  ;  it  saith  they  are  naturally 
out  of  the  good  way;  that  they  have  not  known  it  (Prov.  2  :  15  ; 
Rom.  3:  17).  Now  when  a  man  thus  thinketh  of  his  ways,  I  say, 
when  he  doth  sensibly  and  v/ith  heart-humiliation  thus  think,  then  hath 
he  good  thoughts  of  his  own  ways,  because  his  thoughts  now  agree 
with  the  judgment  of  the  Word  of  God. 


Ignor. 


What  are  o-ood  thoughts  concerninof  God. 


and   thus   to    dispel    self-ignorance    (James 
i:  25). 

Good  tJioughts  conce7'mng  God. — All  men 
think  some  thoughts  respecting  God ;   and 


their  thoughts  are  generally  "good  thoughts," 
that  is,  they  think  good  of  him,  because  God 
is  good,  and  he  is  the  author  and  giver  of 
all  good  things.     It  is  also  possible  to  ente''- 


ChHstian  insinicts  Ignorance. 


233 


Chr.  Even  as  I  have  said  concerning  ourselves,  when  our 
thoughts  of  God  do  agree  with  what  the  Word  saith  of  him  ;  and  that 
is,  when  we  think  of  his  being  and  attributes  as  the  Word  hath 
taught;  of  which  I  cannot  now  discourse  at  large.  But  to  speak  of 
him  with  reference  to  us  ;  then  have  we  right  thoughts  of  God  when 
we  think  that  he  knows  us  better  than  we  know  ourselves,  and  can 
see  sin  in  us  when  and  where  we  can  see  none  in  ourselves  ;  when 
we  think  he  knows  our  inmost  thoughts,  and  that  our  heart,  with 
all  its  depths,  is  always  open  unto  his  eyes  ;  also  when  we  think 
that  all  our  righteousness  stinks  in  his  nostrils,  and  that  therefore  he 
cannot  abide  to  see  us  stand  before  him  in  any  confidence  even  in  all 
our  best  performances. 

Ignor.  Do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  think  that  God 
can  see  no  further  than  I  ?  or  that  I  would  come  to  God  in  the  best 
of  my  performances  ? 

Chr.    Why,  how  dost  thou  think  in  this  matter? 

Ignor.  Why,  to  be  short,  I  think  I  must  believe  in  Christ  for 
justification. 

Chr.  How  !  Think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ,  when  thou 
seest  not  thy  need  of  him  !  Thou  neither  seest  thy  original  nor 
actual  infirmities,  but  hast  such  an  opinion  of  thyself,  and  of  what 
thou  doest,  as  plainly  renders  thee  to  be  one  that  did  never  see  a 
necessity  of  Christ's  personal  righteousness  to  justify  thee  befox'C 
God.     How  then  dost  thou  say,  I  believe  in  Christ? 

Ignor.    I  believe  well  enough  for  all  that. 

Chr.    How  dost  thou  believe  ? 

Ignor.    I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners ;  and  that  I  shall 


tain  good  thoughts  of  God,  theologically,  as 
to  his  attributes — his  love  and  power  and 
such  like.  But  these  thoughts  do  not  neces- 
sarily make  us  to  be  good,  much  less  do  they 
constitute  a  state  of  salvation.  What  we 
need  is,  to  realize  our  thoughts  of  God,  and 
to  apply  them  experimentally  to  ourselves. 
There  are  many  who  think  of  God  as  the 
Omniscient  One,  and  yet,  so  little  do  they 
reah/.e  this  thought,  that  they  sin  openly 
before  his  face  and  in  his  all-searching  sight, 
as  though  he  saw  them  not.  Our  good 
thoughts  concerning  God,  to  be  of  any  use, 
must  lead  to  those  practical  duties  which  we 
owe  to  God  and  to  ourselves. 

"  /  believe  in   Christ." — It  is  easy  to  say 


this,  as  in  a  creed  or  confession  of  faith.  But 
this  is  not  "  believing  in  Christ."  Ignorance 
could  say  this  creed,  and  did  say  it,  and, 
possibly,  believed  it  too  ;  and  yet  he  was 
far  from  the  possession  and  enjoyment  o\ 
saving  faith  in  Jesus.  He  believed  with 
historical  faith — that  Christ  was  born,  and 
lived,  and  died.  He  believed  with  theoloei- 
ra/ faith — that  in  Christ  is  the  justification  of 
the  sinner.  And  yet  this  man  had  no  due 
appreciation  of  Christ's  real  character  and 
work,  or  of  its  bearing  upon  his  own  salva- 
tion. Hence,  the  faith  of  Ignorance  is 
proved  to  be  a  fantastical,  false,  presumptu- 
ous, and  deceptive  faith, 

It  \s  fantastical  faith,  being  the  mer^erea^ 


234 


The  Pilgrim^ s  Progress. 


be  justified  before  God  from  the  curse,  through  his  gracious  accept- 
ance of  my  obedience  to  his  law.  Or  thus  :  Christ  makes  my  duties, 
that  are  relij^ious,  acceptable  to  his  Father  by  virtue  of  his  merits, 
and  so  shall  1  be  justified. 

Chr.    Let  me  give  an  answer  to  this  confession  of  thy  faith  : 
(i)    Thou  believest  with  a  fantastical  faith;  for  this  faith  is  no- 
where described  in  the  Word. 

(2)  Thou  believest  with  a  false  faith  ;  because  it  takes  justifica- 
tion fro7}i  the  personal  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  applies  it  to 
thy  own. 

(3)  This  faith  maketh  not  Christ  a  justifier  of  tliy  person,  but  of 
thy  actions ;  and  of  thy  person  for  thy  actions'  sake  ;  which  is  false. 

(4)  Therefore  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will  leave  thee 
under  wrath  in  the  day  of  God  Almighty  ;  for  true  justifying  faith  puts 
the  soul,  as  sensible  of  its  lost  condition  by  the  law,  upon  flying  for 
refuge  unto  Christ's  righteousness  (which  righteousness  of  his  is  not 
an  act  of  grace  by  which  he  maketh,  for  justification,  thy  obedience 
accepted  with  God,  but  his  personal  obedience  to  the  law,  in  doing 
and  suffering  for  us  what  that  required  at  our  hands)  ;  this  righteous- 
ness, I  say,  true  faith  accepteth  ;  under  the  skirt  of  which  the  soul 
being  shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as  spotless  before  God,  it  is  ac- 
cepted, and  acquitted  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  What !  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what  Christ  in  his  own 
person  hath  done  without  us  ?  This  conceit  will  loosen  the  reins  of 
our  lusts,  and  tolerate  us  to  live  as  we  list ;  for  what  matter  how  we 
live,  if  we  may  be  justified  by  Christ's  personal  righteousness  from 
all,  when  we  believe  it  ? 

Chr.    Ignorance  is  thy  name,  and  as  thy  name  is  so  art  thou ; 


tion  of  his  own  fancy,  a  misapprehension  of 
the  true  nature  of  faith,  and  in  no  respect 
warranted  by  any  authority  of  God's  Word. 
It  is  false  faith.  Justification  is  not  the  lay- 
ing of  Christ's  righteousness  over  our  filthy 
rags,  to  hide,  or  even  to  repair  our  own  right- 
eousness ;  but  the  exchange  of  our  filthy  rags 
for  the  robe  of  the  Saviour's  righteousness. 
He  "took  otir  sins,"  and  now  invites  us — 
"  Take  my  yoke  upon  you." 

It  is  presumptuotis  faith,  seeing  that  in 
the  long  run  it  tendeth  to  justify  men's  works, 
and  their  persons  for  their  works'  sake.  It 
is  not  that  our  deeds  are  made  holy  through 
Christ,  but  that  Christ's  perfect  work  is  im- 


puted to  us,  for  Christ's  own  sake.  He  had 
no  sin  in  him,  but  our  sin  was  laid  upon  him  ; 
and  therefore  Jesus  died  for  us.  We  have  no 
righteousness  in  us,  but  his  righteousness  is 
laid  upott  us ;  and  therefore  we  live  in  him.  , 

It  is  deceptive  faith.  Having  falsely  con- 
ceived the  nature  of  true  faith,  Ignoranci  1 
has  trusted,  as  it  were,  in  the  staff  of  a  broken 
reed,  whereon  if  a  man  lean,  it  will  go  into 
his  hand  and  pierce  it.  Such  trust,  partly 
resting  upon  our  own  deeds,  and  partly  upon 
the  work  of  Christ,  is  dishonoring  to  Christ, 
to  whom  the  whole  work  of  salvation  be- 
longeth,  from  first  to  last ;  for  Jesus  is  both 
"  the  author  and  the  finisher  of  our  faitht" 


The  Falseness  of  Ignorance  s  Faith. 


235 


<«ven  this  thy  answer  demonstrateth  what  I  say.  Ig-norant  thou  art  of 
what  justifying  righteousness  is,  and  as  ignorant  how  to  secure  thy 
soul,  ihrough  the  faith  of  it,  from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God.  Yea,  thou 
also  art  ignorant  of  the  true  effects  of  saving  faith  in  this  righteouness 
of  Chi'ist,  which  is  to  bow  and  win  over  the  heart  to  God  in  Christ, 
to  love  his  name,  his  Word,  ways,  and  people,  and  not  as  thou  igno- 
rantly  imaginest. 

Hope.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to  him  from 
heaven. 

Igngr.  What!  you  are  a  man  for  revelations  !  1  do  believe  that 
what  both  you  and  all  the  rest  of  you  say  about  that  matter  is  but  the 
fruit  of  distracted  brains. 

Hgpe.  Why,  man  !  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the  natural  ap- 
prehension of  all  flesh,  that  he  cannotby  any  man  be  savingly  known 
unless  God  the  Father  reveals  him  to  him. 

Ignok.  That  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine  ;  yet  mine,  I  doubt  not, 
is  as  good  as  yours,  though  I  have  not  in  my  head  so  many  whimsies 
as  you. 

Chr.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a  word  ;  you  ought  not  so  slightly 
to  speak  of  this  matter  ;  for  this  I  will  boldly  affirm  (even  as  my  good 
companion  hath  done),  that  no  man  can  know  Jesus  Christ  but  by  the 
revelation  of  the  Father.  Yea,  and  faith  too,  by  which  the  soul  layeth 
hold  upon  Christ  (if  it  be  right),  must  be  wrought  by  the  exceeding 
greatness  ot  his  mighty  power  (Matt,  ii:  27;  i  Cor.  12:  3;  Eph.  i:  17- 
19);  the  working  of  which  faith,  I  perceive,  poor  Ignorance,  thou  art 
ignorant  of.  Be  awakened,  then,  see  thine  own  wretchedness,  and 
fly  to  the  Lord  Jesus ;  and  by  his  righteousness,  which  is  the  right- 
eousness of  God  (for  he  himself  is  God),  thou  shalt  be  delivered  from 
condemnation. 


This  true  faith  puts  forth  its  hand,  and  takes 
the  righteous  robe;  it  is  that  faith  "under 
the  skirt  of  which,  the  soul  being  shrouded, 
and  by  it  being  presented  as  spotless  before 
God,  it  is  accepted." 

If  he  had  Christ  revealed  to  him  ? — This 
question  of  Hopeful  takes  the  direction  of 
his  own  experience.  In  the  preceding  con- 
versation between  the  Pilgrims,  we  have  been 
informed  how  it  was  that  Hopeful's  conver- 
sion was  brought  about,  even  as  was  the  con- 
version of  Paul.  "  It  pleased  God  to  reveal 
his  Son  in  me"  (Gal.  1:15,  16).     But  this 


experience  is  too  deep,  too  lofty,  too  pro- 
found, too  heavenly  for  Ignorance  to  com- 
prehend or  understand. 

You  go  so  fast. — Yes,  Hopeful  has  al 
ready  proceeded  in  his  spiritual  teaching  fai 
beyond  the  power  of  Ignoraxck  to  follow. 
High  as  the  heaven  is  the  exalted  doctrine 
of  this  devoted  believer  in  Jesus,  who  has 
in  his  own  experience  "  seen  the  Lord,"  in 
the  spiritual  vision  of  his  soul.  Behind  such 
adv.inced  Pilgrims,  yea,  very  far  behind, 
must  such  carnally-minded  men  as  Igno 
range  walk. 


236 


The  Pilj^riiu^s  Progress. 


Ignor.    You  go  so  fast  I  cannot  keep  pace  with  you  ;  do  you  go 
on  before ;  I  must  stay  a  while  behind. 
Then  they  said  : 

Well,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  be, 
To  slight  good  counsel,  ten  times  given  thee? 
And,  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know, 
Ere  long,  the  evil  of  thy  doing  so. 
!  Remember,  man,  in  time;   stoop,  do  not  fear, 

Good  counsel  taken  well  saves;  therefore  hear; 
But,  if  thou  yet  shalt  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Ignorance,  I'll  warrant  thee. 

Then  Christian  addressed  himself  thus  to  his  fellow  : 

Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful,  I  perceive  that  thou  and  I  must 
walk  by  ourselves  again. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  apace  before,  and 
Ignorance,  he  came  hobbling  after.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  com- 
panion, I  much  pity  this  poor  man  ;  it  will  certainly  go  hard  with  him 
at  last. 

Hope,  Alas  !  there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  his  condition, 
whole  families,  yea  whole  streets,  and  that  of  pilgrims  too.  And  if 
there  be  so  many  in  our  parts,  how  many,  think  you,  must  there  be 
in  the  place  where  he  was  born  ? 

Chr.  Indeed  the  Word  saith,  "  He  hath  blinded  their  eyes,  lest 
they  should  see,"  etc. 

But,  now  we  are  by  ourselves,  what  do  you  think  of  such  men? 
have  they  at  no  time,  think  you,  convictions  of  sin,  and,  consequently, 
fears  that  their  state  is  dangerous  ? 

Hope.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  yourself,  for  you  are 
the  elder  man. 

Chr.  Then  I  say,  sometimes  (as  I  think),  they  may  ;  but  they, 
being  naturally  ignorant,  understand  not  that  such  convictions  tend 
to  their  good  ;  and  therefore  they  do  desperately  seek  to  stifle  them, 


True  or  right  fear. — The  reckless  uncon- 
cern of  Ignorance  suggests  to  the  pious 
mind  of  Hopeful  how  good  it  would  be  for 
men's  spiritual  interests,  if  they  were  more 
actuated  by  the  "fear"  of  God.  Christian 
would  qualify  the  expression,  and  calls  it 
"true  or  right  fear,"  which  is  discovered  by 
the  following  marks  and  tokens  : 

(i)  By  conviction  of  sin.  This  is  the 
awakening  of  the  soul,  as  from  a  deep  slum- 


ber of  ignorance  and  unconcern.  It  is  the 
opening  of  the  eyes  to  impending  danger; 
the  sensitiveness  of  the  soul,  enabling  the 
sinner  to  feel  the  burden  of  his  sin.  Here, 
all  as  yet  is  fear  and  trembling,  as  Chris- 
tian himself  once  wept  and  trembled  in  the 
plain,  and  "brake  out  with  a  lamentable 
cry,  saying,  '  What  shall  I  do  ?'  "  How  can 
a  man  see  himself  in  the  midst  of  wrath, 
and   not   fear  ?     How   can   he   behold  the 


The  Effects  of  a  Right  Fear  of  God. 


237 


and  presumptuously  continue  to  flatter  themselves  in  the  way  of 
their  own  hearts. 

Hope.  I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much  to  men's 
good,  and  to  make  them  right  at  their  beginning  to  go  on  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  Without  all  doubt  it  doth,  if  it  be  right ;  for  so  says  the 
Word,  "The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom"  (Job  28: 
28;  Ps.  111:   10;   Prov.  i:  7;  9:   10). 

Hope.    How  will  you  describe  right  fear  ? 

Chr.  T^'ue  or  right  fear  is  discovered  by  three  things  :  (i)  By 
its  rise;  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions  for  sin.  (2)  It  driveth  the 
soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for  salvation.  (3)  It  begetteth  and  con- 
tinueth  in  the  soul  a  great  reverence  of  God,  his  Word  and  ways, 
keeping  it  tender,  and  making  it  afraid  to  turn  from  them  to  the 
right  hand  or  to  the  left,  to  anything  that  may  dishonor  God,  break 
its  peace,  grieve  the  Spirit,  or  cause  the  enemy  to  speak  reproach- 
fully. 

Hope.  Well  said;  I  believe  you  have  said  the  truth.  Are  we 
viow  almost  got  past  the  Enchanted  Ground  ? 

Cur.   Why?  are  you  weary  of  this  discourse? 

Hope.    No,  verily,  but  that  I  would  know  where  we  are. 

Chr.  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  farther  to  go  thereon. 
But  let  us  return  to  our  matter.  Now  the  if^norant  know  not  that 
such  convictions  as  tend  to  put  them  in  fear  are  for  their  good,  and 
therefore  they  seek  to  stifle  them. 

Hope    How  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them  ? 

Chr.  (i)  They  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought  by  the  devil 
(though  indeed  they  are  wrought  of  God) ;  and,  thinking  so,  they  resist 


mouth  of  hell,  and  not  fear?  How  can  he 
feel  his  weight  of  woe  and  condemnation, 
and  not  be  affected  with  fear  ?  Such  fear  as 
this  is  that  "true  or  right  fear  "  that  is  akin 
to  "godly  sorrow,"  which  "  worketh  re- 
pentance to  salvation  "  (2  Cor.  7  :   10). 

(2)  By  laying  fast  hold  on  the  Saviour. 
Consciousness  of  danger  impels  a  man  to 
seek  for  safety.  Instant,  earnest  and  imme- 
diate is  the  effort  of  the  shipwrecked  mar- 
iner to  strike  ouL  for  the  rock,  and  be  safe. 
Who  could  stay  the  impetuous  course  of  the 
man-slayer  when  pursued,  so  fast  and  so 
very  near,  by  the  avenger  of  blood  ?  And 
Christ  is  our  Refuge,  the  Rock  of  our 
Strength,  the  God  of  our  salvation.     It  is 


true,  his  love  must  draw  us,  and  his  com- 
passion win  us  ;  but  there  is  ground  for  fear, 
too,  as  an  element  of  safety — fear  of  danger, 
that  makes  us  flee  from  wrath,  and  take 
refuge  in  the  arms  of  Jesus,  "  till  this  ty- 
ranny be  over-past." 

(3)  By  the  effect  of  pardon  on  the  soul. 
"  There  is  forgiveness  with  thee,  that  thou 
mayest  be /d'^rn'i/ "  (Ps.  130:  4).  God's  for- 
giveness leads  to  fear ;  and  why  ?  An  elo- 
quent writer  asks:  "What  is  that  strange 
and  potent  element  in  Divine  forgiveness 
which  makes  the  forgiven  fear — making  me, 
more  afraid  to  sin  beside  the  Cross  of  Cal- 
vary, with  its  quiet,  pale,  dead,  bleeding 
burden,  than  if  I  stood  at  the  foot  of  Sinai 


238 


The  Pilgrinis  Progress, 


them  as  things  that  directly  tend  to  their  overthrow.  (2)  They  also 
think  that  these  fears  tend  to  the  spoiling  of  their  faith  ;  when,  alas  for 
them,  poor  men  that  they  are,  they  have  none  at  all! — and  therefore 
they  harden  their  hearts  against  them.  (3)  They  presume  they  ought 
not  to  fear;  and  therefore,  in  despite  of  them,  wax  presumptuously 
confident.  (4)  They  see  that  those  fears  tend  to  take  away  from  them 
iheir  pitiful  old  self-holiness,  and  therefore  they  resist  them  with  all 
their  mioht. 

Hope.  I  know  something  of  this  myself;  for  before  I  knew  my- 
self it  was  so  with  me, 

Chr,  Well,  we  will  leave,  at  this  time,  our  neighbor  Jg^norance  by 
himself,  and  fall  upon  another  profitable  question. 

Hope,  With  all  my  heart;  but  you  shall  still  begii. 

Chr.  Well,  then,  did  you  know,  about  ten  years  ego,  one  Tem- 
porary in  your  parts,  who  was  a  forward  man  in  religion  then  ? 

Hope.  Know  him  !  yes,  he  dwelt  in  Graceless:,  a  town  about  two 
miles  off  Honesty;  and  he  dwelt  next  door  to  one  Turnback. 

Chk.  Right,  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  him.  Well,  that 
man  was  much  awakened  once,  I  believe  that  then  he  had  some  sight 
of  his  sins,  and  of  the  wages  that  were  due  thereto. 

Hope.  I  am  of  your  mind,  for  (my  house  not  being  above  three 
miles  from  him)  he  would  ofttimes  come  to  me,  and  that  with  many 
tears.  Truly  I  pitied  the  man,  and  was  not  altogether  without  hope 
of  him;   but  one  may  see  it  is  not  everyone  that  cries.  Lord,  Lord. 

Chr.  He  told  me  once  he  was  resolved  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as 
we  go  now  ;  but  all  of  a  sudden  he  grew  acquainted  with  one  Saveself, 
and  then  he  became  a  stranger  to  me. 

Hope,  Now  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us  a  little  inquire 
into  the  reason  of  the  sudden  backslidinor  of  him  and  such  others. 


amid  the  thunders,  Hghtnings  and  trumpet 
peals  that  made  Moses  himself  exceedingly 
fear  and  quake  ?" 

The  pardoned  sinner  "  fears "  God,  be- 
cause he  now  is  able  to  understand  the 
enormity  of  his  sin  in  the  greatness  of  the 
ransom.  If  our  sin  were  easily  pardoned, 
we  might  lightly  sin,  and  reckon  again  upon 
the  round  of  easy  pardon.  But  no;  the 
pardon  of  the  sinner  has  cost  a  price  too 
awful  to  contemplate,  has  required  a  life  too 
vast  to  estimate,  and  demanded  a  ransom 
in  the  person  — the  Divinely  human  person 


— of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God ;  and  this 
must  not  be  trifled  with 

"  Did  you  know  one  Temporary?'' — This 
is  a  backslider — one  who  received  the  Word, 
the  good  seed,  but  received  it  in  thorny 
ground ;  and  although  the  seed  gave  some 
promise  of  development,  yet  the  prickly 
thorns  did  ere  long  arise  and  choke  the 
seed,  which,  having  "  no  deepness  of  earth," 
soon  withered  away. 

This  evil  influence  was  brought  about  by 
one  Saveself.  Here,  in  another  form,  is  the 
spirit  of  self-sufficien^'v  that  seems  to  require 


The  Effects  of  False  Fear. 


239 


CHRISTIAN  AND   HOPEFUL  ENTER  THE  LAND  OF  BEULAH. 


Chr.    It  may  be  very  profitable  ;  but  do  you  begin. 

Hope.  Well,  then,  there  are  in  my  judgment  four  reasons  for  it. 
(i)  Though  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awakened,  yet  their  minds 
are  not  changed ;  therefore,  when  the  power  of  guilt  w^eareth  away, 
that  which  provoked  them  to  be  religious  ceaseth  ;  wherefore  they 
naturally  return  to  their  own  course  again  ;  even  as  we  see  the  dog 
that  is  sick  of  what  he  hath  eaten,  so  long  as  his  sickness  prevails  he 
vomits  and  casts  up  all ;  not  that  he  doeth  this  of  a  free  mind  (if  we 
may  say  a  dog  has  a  mind),  but  because  it  troubleth  his  stomach ;  but 
now,  when  his  sickness  is  over,  and  so  his  stomach  eased,  his  desires 
being  not  at  all  alienated  from  his  vomit,  he  turns  him  about  and  licks 
up  all  ;  and  so  it  is  true  which  is  written,  "The  dog  is  turned  to  his 


no  Saviour,  and  to  stand  in  need  of  no  sal- 
vation. Alas !  that  Pilgrims  should  thus 
easily  be  persuaded  to   turn   back  !     "  Be- 


cause they  had  no  root,  they  withered  away." 
Thus  begins  the  downward  course  of  the 
backshders  :  They  dray;  off  ^heir  minds  from 


240 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress^ 


own  vomit  again"  (2  Peter  2  :  22).  Thus,  I  say,  being  hot  for 
heaven,  by  virtue  only  of  the  sense  and  fear  of  the  torments  of  hell, 
as  their  sense  of  hell  and  fear  of  damnation  chills  and  cools,  so  their 
desires  for  heaven  and  salvation  cool  also.  So  then  it  comes  to  pass 
that,  when  their  guilt  and  fear  are  gone,  their  desires  for  heaven  and 
happiness  die,  and  they  return  to  their  course  again.  (2)  Another 
reason  is,  they  have  slavish  fears  that  do  overmaster  them.  I  speak 
now  of  the  fears  that  they  have  of  men  ;  "for  the  fear  of  man  bring- 
eth  a  snare"  (Prov.  29:  25).  So,  then,  though  they  seem  to  be 
hot  for  heaven  so  long  as  the  flames  of  hell  are  about  their  ears,  yet, 
when  that  terror  is  a  little  over,  they  betake  themselves  to  second 
thoughts,  namely,  that  it  is  good  to  be  wise,  and  not  to  run  (for  they 
know  not  what)  the  hazard  of  losing  all,  or  at  least  of  bringing 
themselves  into  unavoidable  and  unnecessary  troubles  ;  and  so  they 
fall  in  with  the  world  again.  (3)  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies 
also  as  a  block  in  the  way.  They  are  proud  and  haughty,  and  relig- 
ion in  their  eyes  is  low  and  contemptible  ;  therefore,  when  they  have 
lost  their  sense  of  hell  and  the  wrath  to  come,  they  return  again  to 
their  former  course.  (4)  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous 
to  them.  They  like  not  to  see  their  misery  before  they  come  into  it ; 
though  perhaps  the  sight  of  it  at  first,  if  they  loved  that  sight,  might 
make  them  fly  whither  the  righteous  run  and  are  safe.  But  because 
they  do,  as  I  hinted  before,  even  shun  the  thoughts  of  guilt  and  ter- 
ror, therefore,  when  once  they  are  rid  of  their  awakenings  about 
the  terrors  and  wrath  of  God,  they  harden  their  hearts  gladly,  and 
choose  such  ways  as  will  harden  them  more  and  more. 

Chr.  You  are  pretty  near  the  business ;  for  the  bottom  of  all 
is,  for  want  of  a  change  in  their  mind  and  will.  And  therefore  they 
are  but  like  the  felon  thatstandeth  before  the  judge  ;  he  quakes  and 
trembles,  and  seems  to  repent  most  heartily ;  but  the  bottom  of  all  is 
the  fear  of  the  halter,  not  that  he  hath  any  detestation  of  the 
offence  ;  as  is  evident,  because,  let  but  this  man  have  his  liberty,  and 
he  will  be  a  thief,  and  so  a  rogue  still ;  whereas,  if  his  mind  was 
changed,  he  would  be  otherwise. 


things  Divine.  They  then  withdraw  them- 
selves from  the  private  duties  of  rehgion. 
By-and-by  they  forsake  the  communion  of 
saints.  Ere  long  they  become  captious  and 
cynical.  Now  the  tide  turns  in  the  fulness 
of  its  might,  and  these  men  resign  them- 
selves to  positive  iniquity  and  evil  compan- 


ionships. And  now,  having  ventured  this 
far,  they  are  borne  into  the  adverse  current, 
and  are  hurried  away  into  the  vortex ;  and 
("unless,"  as  Bunyan  says,  "a  miracle  of 
grace  prevent  it ")  they  are,  as  Ignorance 
by-and-by  will  be,  cast  into  the  abyss  of 
eternal  wrath. 


The  Effects  of  False  Fear. 


241 


Hope.  Now  I  have  showed  you  the  reasons  of  their  going  back, 
do  you  show  me  the  manner  thereof. 

Chk.  So  I  wilHngly  will.  They  draw  off  their  thoughts,  all  that 
they  may,  from  the  remembrance  of  God,  death  and  judgment  to 
come ;  then  they  cast  off  by  degrees  private  duties,  as  closet-prayer, 
curbing  their  lusts,  watching,  sorrow  for  sin,  and  the  like;  then  they 
shun  the  company  of  lively  and  warm  Christians ;  after  that  they 
grow  cold  to  public  duty,  as  hearing,  reading,  godly  conference, 
and  the  like ;  they  then  begin  to  pick  holes,  as  we  say,  in  the 
coats  of  some  of  the  godly,  and  that  devilishly,  that  they  may 
have  a  seeming  color  to  throw  religion  (for  the  sake  of  some  in- 
firmities they  have  spied  in  them)  behind  their  backs ;  then  they  be- 
gin to  adhere  to,  and  associate  themselves  with,  carnal,  loose  and 
wanton  men  ;  then  they  give  way  to  carnal  and  wanton  discourses  in 
secret;  and  glad  are  they  if  they  can  see  such  things  in  any  that  are 
counted  honest,  that  they  may  the  more  boldly  do  it  through  their 
example.  After  this,  they  begin  to  play  with  litde  sins  openly  ;  and 
then,  being  hardened,  they  show  themselves  as  they  are.  Thus, 
being  launched  again  into  the  gulf  of  misery,  unless  a  miracle  of 
grace  prevent  it,  they  everlastingly  perish  in  their  own  deceivings. 


16 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Land  of  Beulah— The  Fords  of  the  River— At  Home 


"  Methinks  I  feel  the  balmy  air 

Breathe  on  a  pleasant  land 
'  Mid  joys  so  great  and  scenes  so  fair, 

In  Beulah's  plains  I  stand. 
A  land  of  everlasting  spring, 

Of  seasons  bright  and  gay, 
Where  birds  are  ever  on  the  wing. 

And  night  is  lost  in  day. 


The  turtle  sings  the  whole  day  long' 

The  birds  in  chorus  sing 
Their  matin-hymn  and  even-song. 

To  God,  their  God  and  King. 
From  gloom  and  doubt  and  dark  despair 

An  endless  rest  is  given  ; 
The  shining  ones  are  walking  there, 

The  border-land  of  heaven  1" 


The  Enchanted  Ground  has  been  passed  in  safety ;  the  Pilgrims  are  now  in  the 
Land  of  Beulah.  Peace  !  it  is  a  marriage  scene  !  far  from  Apollyon's  wrath,  far  from 
the  darkness  of  Death's  shadow,  far  from  even  the  sight  of  Doubting  Castle — away  upon 
the  heights,  embowered  in  vineyards  and  orchards  of  the  choicest  fruits,  is  the  Land  of 
Beulah. 

Bright  and  blissful  are  the  visions  of  their  sleep,  as  now,  released  from  the  toil  and 
travail  of  the  way,  they  rest  upon  their  peaceful  pillow.  "  They  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion 
and  unto  the  City  of  the  Living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem."  Yet,  one  step  more  ;  one 
more  ordeal  must  be  passed  A  flowing  River,  dark  and  deep,  touches  the  base  of  the 
mount,  and  divides  things  present  from  things  to  come.  This  River  must  be  forded,  and  it 
is  only  buoyant  Faith  that  can  overpass  it  safely. 

OW  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  by  this  time  the  pilgrims  were 
got  over  the  Enchanted  Ground  ;  and,  entering  into  the 
country  of  Beulah  (Sol.  Song  2:  10-12;  Isa.  62:  4-12), 
whose  air  was  very  sweet  and  pleasant,  the  w^ay  lying 
directly  through  it,  they  solaced  themselves  there  for  a 
season.  Yea,  here  they  heard  continually  "  the  singing  of  birds,"  and 
saw  every  day  "the  flowers"  appear  in  the  earth,  and  heard  "the 
voice  of  the  turtle  "  in  the  land.  In  this  country  the  sun  shineth  night 
and  day  ;  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
Death,  and  also  out  of  the  reach  of  Giant  Despair  ;  neither  could  they 


The  Country  of  Betilah. — "  Thou  shalt 
no  more  be  termed  Forsaken  ;  neither  shall 
thy  land  any  more  be  termed  Desolate  ; 
but  thou  shalt  be  called  Beulah  ;  for  the 
Lord  delighteth  in  thee,  and  thy  land  shall 
be  married  "  (Isa.  62  :  4).  Beulah  means 
"  MARRIED  ;  "  and,  in  prophetic  language, 


it  speaks  of  the  final  blessedness  of  the 
Church — the  bride  of  Christ,  when  the 
Bridegroom  shall  return  to  his  now  widowed 
spouse,  and  the  marriage  contract  shall  be 
renewed.  Here,  the  allusion  is  appropriated 
to  the  advanced  stage  of  the  Christian  pil- 
grimage, which  conducts  the  Pilgrims  into 


(242) 


The  Pilgrims  reach  the  La7id  of  Beulah. 


243 


from  this  place  so  much  as  see  Doubting  Castle,  Here  they  were 
within  sight  of  the  city  they  were  going  to ;  also  here  met  them  some 
of  the  inhabitants  thereof;  for  in  this  land  the  shining  ones  commonly 
walked,  because  it  was  upon  the  borders  of  heaven.  In  this  land 
also  the  contract  between  the  Bride  and  the  Bridegroom  was  renewed ; 
yea,  here,  "as  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so  doth  their 
God  rejoice  over  them.  "  Here  they  had  no  want  of  corn  and  wine; 
for  in  this  place  they  met  with  abundance  of  what  they  had  sought 
for  in  all  their  pilgrimage.  Here  they  heard  voices  from  out  of  the 
City,  loud  voices,  saying,  "Say  ye  to  the  daughters  of  Zion,  Behold, 
thy  salvation  cometh!  Behold,  his  reward  is  with  him!"  Here  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  country  called  them  "the  holy  people,  the 
redeemed  of  the  Lord,  sought  out,  "  etc. 

Now,  as  they  walked  in  this  land,  they  had  more  rejoicing  than 
in  parts  more  remote  from  the  kingdom  to  which  they  were  bound  ; 
and  drawing  near  to  the  City  they  had  yet  a  more  perfect  view  thereof. 
It  was  built  of  pearls  and  precious  stones ;  also  the  streets  thereof 
were  paved  with  gold ;  so  that,  by  reason  of  the  natural  glory  of  the 
City,  and  the  reflection  of  the  sunbeams  upon  it,  Christian  with  de 
sire  fell  sick.  Hopeful  also  had  a  fit  or  two  of  the  same  disease. 
Wherefore  here  they  lay  by  it  a  while,  crying  out  because  of  their 
pangs,  "If  ye  see  my  Beloved,  tell  him  that  I  am  sick  of  love." 

But,  being  a  little  strengthened,  and  better  able  to  bear  their 
sickness,  they  walked  on  their  way,  and  came  yet  nearer  and  nearer, 
where  were  orchards,  vineyards,  and  gardens  ;  and  their  gates  opened 
into  the  highway.  Now,  as  they  came  up  to  these  places,  behold  the 
gardener  stood  in  the  way;  to  whom  the  Pilgrims  said.  Whose  goodly 
vineyards  and  gardens  are  these?  He  answered,  They  are  the 
King's,  and  are  planted  here  for  his  own  delights,  and  also  for  the 
solace  of  Pilgrims.  So  the  gardener  had  them  into  the  vineyards,  and 
bid  them  refresh  themselves  with  the  dainties  (Deut.  23:  24);  he  also 


the  very  suburbs  of  the  land,  and  nigh  unto 
the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City. 

"  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous !" 
Here  is  a  description  of  a  Christian's  sun- 
setting  in  this  world,  and  the  rising  gloriously 
in  the  other  and  the  better  land.  Here  is 
the  peaceful  quietude  of  the  departing 
Christian,  finishing  his  course  with  joy.  Al- 
ready does  the  communion  of  the  skies  com- 
mence ;  heavenly  messengers,  with  mes- 
sages of  love  and  peace,  hover  around  the 


bed  of  the  Pilgrims.  The  storms  of  the 
Pilgrimage  are  hushed  to  silence ;  fierce 
tem.pests  cease  to  blow ;  all  here  is  blessed 
sunshine,  calm  and  sweet  repose — here  in 
the  Land  of  Beulah. 

Nearer  and  nearer !  It  is  a  Progress  still, 
and  as  yet  they  are  not  at  home.  The  light 
now  dazzles  them  with  its  exceeding  glory  ; 
and  they  can  yet  behold  it  only  "  as  throus^h 
a  glass,  darkly ;"  but  they  are  advancing 
"  nearer  and  nearer."     They  have,  howcvW/ 


The  Pilgrh7is  7'each  the  Land  of  Beulak,  245 

showed  them    there  the    King's  walks  and  the  arbors    where  he 
dehghted  to  be  ;  and  here  they  tarried  and  slept. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  talked  more  in  their  sleep 
at  this  time  than  ever  they  did  in  all  their  journey ;  and,  being  in  ? 
muse  thereabouts,  the  gardener  said  even  to  me,  Wherefore  musesl 
thou  at  the  matter  ?  It  is  the  nature  of  the  fruit  of  the  grapes  of 
I  these  vineyards  "to  go  down  so  sweetly  as  to  cause  the  lips  of  them 
that  are  asleep  to  speak." 

So  I  saw  that  when  they  awoke  they  addressed  themselves  to 
go  up  to  the  City.  But,  as  I  said,  the  reflection  of  the  sun  upon  die 
City  (for  the  City  was  pure  gold)  (2  Cor.  3:  18;  Rev.  21 :  18)  was  so 
extremely  glorious  that  they  could  not  as  yet  with  open  face  beholc 
it,  but  through  an  instrument  made  for  that  purpose.  So  I  saw,  that 
as  they  went  on,  there  met  them  two  men  in  raiment  that  shone  like 
gold,  also  their  faces  shone  as  the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  Pilgrims  whence  they  came  ;  and  they  told 
them.  They  also  asked  them  where  they  had  lodged,  and  what 
difficulties  and  dangers,  what  comforts  and  pleasures  they  had  met 
in  the  way  ;  and  they  told  them.  Then  said  the  men  that  met  them, 
You  have  but  two  difficulties  more  to  meet  with,  and  then  you  are 
in  the  City. 

Christian  then  and  his  companion  asked  the  men  to  go  along 
with  them  ;  so  they  told  them  that  they  would  ;  but,  said  they,  You 
must  obtain  it  by  your  own  faith.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they 
went  on  together  till  they  came  in  sight  of  the  gate. 

Now  I  further  saw  that  between  them  and  the  gate  was  a  river; 
but  there  was  no  bridge  to  go  over,  and  the  river  was  very  deep. 
At  the  sight  thereof  of  this  river,  the  Pilgrims  were  much  stunned; 
but  the  men  that  went  with  them,  said,  Ycu  must  go  through,  or  you 
cannot  come  at  the  gate. 

The  Pilgrims  then  began  to  inquire  if  there  was  no  other  way 
to  the  gate.     To  which  they  answered.  Yes  ;  but  there  hath  not  any. 


two  difficulties  more  to  meet  with  :  (i)  the 
intervening  river;  and  (2)  that  river  must 
be  crossed. 

/I  River. — This  is  the  River  of  Death  ;  a 
river  without  a  bridge  to  span  it,  and  its 
waters  are  very  deep.  The  men  shuddered 
at  the  sight.  Yes,  Death  is  the  "king  of 
terrors  "  still !  The  requirement  is  sternly 
exacted — "you   mttst  go   through,   or    you 


cannot  come  at  the  gate."  Yet,  to  believing 
faith  is  given  a  great  reward — "you  shall 
find  it  deeper  or  shallower,  as  you  believe 
in  the  King  of  the  place." 

The  Pilgrims  would  avoid  the  crossing  ol 
this  river,  if  they  could.  It  is  a  cold  flood ; 
a  stormy  sea  ;  at  best  it  is  a  bitter  pang,  the 
residue  of  the  curse  of  sin.  Even  Standfast, 
a  brave  and  good  comrade  of  the  Second 


246 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


lave  two — to  wit,  Enoch  and  Elijah — been  permitted  to  tread  that 
path  since  the  foundation  of  the  world ;  nor  shall  until  the  last 
trumpet  shall  sound.  The  pilgrims  then  (especially  Christian)  began 
cO  despond,  and  looked  this  way  and  that,  but  could  find  no  way  by 
which  they  might  escape  the  river.  Then  they  asked  the  men  if  the 
waters  were  all  of  the  same  depth  ?  They  said  no  ;  yet  they  could  not 
help  them  in  that  case ;  for,  said  they,  you  shall  find  it  deeper  or 
shallower,  as  you  believe  in  the  King  of  the  place. 

They  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water,  and,  entering, 
Christian  began  to  sink,  and  crying  out  to  his  good  friend  Hopeful, 
he  said,  "I  sink  in  deep  waters ;  the  billows  go  over  my  head  all  the 
waves  go  over  me.     Selah.  " 

Then  said  the  other,  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother ;  I  feel  the 
bottom,  and  it  is  good.  Then  said  Christian,  Ah  !  my  friend,  "the 
sorrows  of  death  have  compassed  me  about;"  I  shall  not  see  the 
land  that  flows  with  milk  and  honey.  And  with  that  a  great  darkness 
and  horror  fell  upon  Christian,  so  that  he  could  not  see  before  him. 
Also  here  he  in  a  great  measure  lost  his  senses,  so  that  he  could 
neither  remember  nor  orderly  talk  of  any  of  those  sweet  refresh- 
ments that  he  had  met  with  in  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage.  But  all 
the  words  that  he  spoke  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had  horror 
of  mind,  and  heart-fears  that  he  should  die  in  that  river,  and  never 
obtain  entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also,  as  they  that  stood  by  per- 
ceived, he  was  much  in  the  troublesome  thoughts  of  the  sins  that  he 
had  committed,  both  since  and  before  he  began  to  be  a  pilgrim.  It 
was  also  observed  that  he  was  troubled  with  apparitions  of  hobgob- 
lins and  evil  spirits  ;  for  ever  and  anon  he  would  intimate  so  much  by 
words.  Hopeful  therefore  here  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  brother's 
head  above  water ;  yea,  sometimes  he  would  be  quite  gone  down, 


and  then,  ere  a  while,  he  would  rise  up 


agam 


half  dead.     Hopeful 


Pilgrimage,  did  with  a  shudder  say,  as  he 
adventured  himself  into  the  flood,  "The 
waters,  indeed,  are  to  the  palate  bitter,  and 
to  the  stomach  cold." 

In  these  fords  of  the  river  are  described 
two  Christian  death-beds:  the  one  filled 
with  fears  and  terrors,  his  faith  feeble  and 
faint,  and  therefore  the  waters  in  proportion 
deep  ;  the  other,  ever  hopeful  and  still  re- 
joicing, upholds  his  more  feeble  brother,  and 
is  himself  upheld  ;  his  faith  is  firm,  and  there- 
fore his  footing  is  sure.     "  Be  of  good  cheer. 


my  brother ;  I  feel  the  bottom,  and  it  is 
good  !  "  How  long  shall  Christian  be  thus 
pursued  by  the  great  enemy  of  souls  ?  Would 
Satan  have  him  even  yet,  and  in  death  de- 
stroy him  who  in  life  had  proved  so  faithful  ? 
Yea,  even  in  the  fords  of  the  river,  Satan 
standeth  at  his  right  hand;  as  Bunyan  else- 
where says,  "  I  find  he  is  much  for  assault- 
ing the  soul  when  it  begins  to  approach 
towards  the  grave." 

Christian  seems  to  have  failed  to  gain 
the  foothold  of  the  promises  in  these  deep 


Christian  in  the  Deep  Waters. 


247 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  CROSS  THE  RIVER. 


also  would  endeavor  to  comfort  him,  saying,  Brother,  I  see  the  gate, 
and  men  standing  by  to  receive  us ;  but  Christian  would  answer, 
*Tis  you,  'tis  you  they  wait  for ;  you  have  been  hopeful  ever  since  I 
knew  you.  And  so  have  you,  said  he  to  Christian.  Ah,  brother, 
said  he,  surely  if  I  were  right,  He  would  now  rise  to  help  me;  but 
for  my  sins  he  hath  brought  me  into  the  snare,  and  hath  left  me. 
Then  said  Hopeful,  My  brother,  you  have  quite  forgot  the  text, 
where  it  is  said  of  the  wicked,  "  There  are  no  bands  in  their  death, 
but  their  strength  is  firm  ;  they  are  not  troubled  as  other  men,  neither 
are  they  plagued  like  other  men."  These  troubles  and  distresses 
that  you  go  through  are  no  sign  that  God  hath  forsaken  you,  but 
are  sent  to  try  you,  whether  you  will  call  to  mind  that  which  hereto- 


waters.  Hopeful  feels  that  goodly  ground- 
work, and  would  share  this  platform  of  his 
faith  and  confidence  with  his  comrade,  if  he 
could.  This  hopeful  companion  suggests 
the  promises  of  God,  beckons  his  partner  on 


in  hope,  points  to  the  shining  ones  that  wait  i 
to  receive  them  on   the  further  shore ;  but 
Christian,   by   reason  of  his  doubts   and 
fears,  cannot  realize  so  bright  a  prospect  of 
the  coming  end.     And  yet  it  is  one  of  the 


248 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


fore  you  have  received  of  his  goodness,  and  Hve  upon  him  in  youf 
distresses. 

Tlien  I  saw  in  my  dre*am  diat  Christian  was  in  a  muse  awhile. 
To  whom  also  Hopeful  added  these  words,  "Be  of  good  cheer;  Jesus 
Christ  maketh  thee  whole."  And  with  that  Christian  brake  out  with 
a  loud  voice,  Oh,  I  see  him  again!  and  he  tells  me,  "When  thou 
passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  and  through  the  rivers, 
they  shill  not  overflow  thee"  (Isa.  43  :  2).  Then  they  both  took 
cDurage,  and  the  enemy  was  after  that  as  still  as  a  stone,  until  they 
were  gone  over.  Christian  therefore  presently  found  ground  to 
stand  upon,  and  so  it  followed  that  the  rest  of  the  river  was  but 
shallow  ;  thus  they  got  over. 

Now  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  on  the  other  side,  they  saw  the 
two  shining  men  again,  who  there  waited  for  them.  Wherefore 
being  come  up  out  of  the  river  they  saluted  them,  saying,  "We  are 
ministering  spirits  sent  forth  to  minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs 
of  salvation"  (Heb.  i  :  14).    Thus  they  went  along  towards  the  gate. 

Now  you  must  note  that  the  city  stood  upon  a  mighty  hill ;  but 
the  Pilgrims  went  up  that  hill  with  ease,  because  they  had  these  two 
men  to  lead  them  up  by  the  arms  ;  also  they  had  left  their  mortal 
garments  behind  them  in  the  river ;  for  though  they  went  in  with 
them  they  came  out  without  them.  They  therefore  went  up  here 
with  much  agility  and  speed,  though  the  foundation  upon  which  the 
city  was  framed  was  higher  than  the  clouds.  ,-'I^hey  therefore  went 
up  through  the  regions  of  the  air,  sweetly  talking  as  they  went,  being 
comforted  because  they  safely  got  over  the  river,  and  had  such  glori- 
ous companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  that  they  had  with  the  shining  ones  was  about  the 
glory  of  the  place  ;  who  told  them  that  the  beauty  and  glory  of  it 
was  inexpressible.  There,  said  they,  is  "  Mount  Zion,  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect"  (Heb.  12  :  22—24).  ^on  are  going  now;, 
said  they,  to  the  paradise  of  God,  wherein  you  shall  see  the  Tree  of 


precious  promises  that  at  last  sustains  him  : 
"  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I 
will  be  with  thee;  and  through  the  rivers, 
they  shall  not  overflow  thee ;"  and  boldly 
resting  himself  on  the  strength  of  this 
pli;:jhted  word  of  his  God  and  Father,  the 
scales  of  darkness  fall  from  his  eyes,  his 
feet  are  grouxided  on  a  sure  place  ;  and,  ere 


long,  both  Christian  and  Hopeful  have 
gained  the  eternal  shore. 

"  The  world  recedes,  it  disappears ; 
Heaven  opens  on  mine  eyes  ;  my  ears 

With  sounds  seraphic  ring. 
Lend,  lend  your  wings,  I  mount,  I  fly; 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

0  death,  where  is  thy  sting?" 

Thus  they  went    along,— rTV^   River,  of 


The  Pilgrims  are    Welcomed  to  Heaven, 


249 


Life,  and  eat  of  the  never-fading  fruits  thereof;  and  when  yon  come 
there  you  shall  have  white  robes  given  you,  and  your  walk  and  talk 
shall  be  every  day  with  the  King,  even  all  the  days  of  eternity  (Rev. 
2:  7  ;  3:  4,  5  ;  22:  5).  There  you  shall  not  see  again  such  things  as 
you  saw  when  you  were  in  the  lower  regions  upon  the  earth,  to  wit : 
sorrow,  sickness  and  death  ;  for  the  former  things  are  passed  away 
(Isa.  5'-.  16).  You  are  going  now  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac  and  Jacob, 
and  to  tne  prophets,  men  that  God  hath  "  taken  away  from  the  evil 
to  come,"  and  that  are  now  "  resting  upon  their  beds,  each  one  walk- 
ing in  his  uprightness."  The  men  then  asked.  What  must  we  do  in 
the  holy  place?  To  whom  it  was  answered.  You  must  there  receive 
the  comfort  of  all  your  toil,  and  have  joy  for  all  your  sorrow ;  you 
must  reap  what  you  have  sown,  even  the  fruit  of  all  your  prayers, 
and  tears,  and  sufferings  for  the  King  by  the  way  (Gal.  6  :  7,  8).  In 
that  place  you  must  wear  crowns  of  gold,  and  enjoy  the  perpetual 
sight  and  vision  of  the  Holy  One  ;  for  there  you  "  shall  see  him  as  he 
is"  (i  John  3  :  2).  There  also  you  shall  serve  him  continually  with 
praise,  with  shouting  and  thanksgiving,  whom  you  desired  to  serve 
in  the  world,  though  with  much  difficulty,  because  of  the  infirmity  of 
your  flesh.  There  your  eyes  shall  be  delighted  with  seeing,  and 
your  ears  with  hearing  the  pleasant  voice  of  the  Mighty  One.  There 
you  shall  enjoy  your  friends  again,  that  are  gone  thither  before  you  ; 
and  there  you  shall  with  joy  receive  even  every  one  that  follows 
into  the  holy  place  after  you.  There  also  you  shall  be  clothed  with 
glory  and  majesty,  and  put  into  an  equipage  fit  to  ride  out  with  the 
King  of  Glory,  When  he  shall  come  with  sound  of  trumpet  in  the 
clouds,  as  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  you  shall  come  with  him  ;  and 
when  he  shall  sit  upon  the  throne  of  judgment,  you  shall  sit  by  'lirn; 
yea,  and  when  he  shall  pass  sentence  upon  all  the  workers  of  iniquity, 
let  them  be  angels  or  men,  you  shall  also  have  a  voice  in  that  judg- 
ment, because  they  are  his  and  your  enemies.  Also,  when  he  shall 
again  return  to  the  city,  you  shall  go  too,  with  sound  of  trumpet,  and 
be  ever  with  him  (i  Thess.  4:  13-17  ;  Jude  14,  15  ;  Dan.  7:  9,  10;  i 
Cor.  6:  2,  3). 

Now   while  they  were    thus  drawing  toward  the  gate,  behold  a 


Death  has  been  safely  overpassed.  All  that 
was  mortal  has  been  left  behind  ;  they  now 
are  disemboHied  spirits,  unclothed  of  their 
mortality,  and  "clothed  upon  with  their 
house  which  is  from  heaven,"  rising  and 
soaring    higher   than    the   clouds.      There, 


citizens  of  heaven  receive  them ;  minister- 
ing spirits,  that  once  invisibly  ministered  to 
them  here,  now  minister  to  them  in  glory, 
and  open  up  the  prospect  of  the  things  that 
yet  shall  be,  and  the  part  the  redeemed  shall 
yet   bear   in    the   coming   kingdom  of  our 


250 


7  he  Pilgri)7i  s  Progress. 


company  of  the  heavenly  host  came  out  to  meet  them  ;  to  whom  it 
was  said  by  the  other  two  shining  ones,  These  are  the  men  that  have 
loved  our  Lord,  when  they  were  in  the  world,  and  that  have  left  all  for 
his  holy  name,  and  he  hath  sent  us  to  fetch  them,  and  we  have  brought 
them  thus  far  on  their  desired  journey,  that  they  may  go  in  and  look 
their  Redeemer  in  the  face  with  joy.  Then  the  heavenly  host  gave  a 
great  shout,  saying,  "  Blessed  are  they  which  are  called  unto  the  mar- 
riage supper  of  the  Lamb"  (Rev.  19  :  9).  There  came  cuu  :*iso  at 
this  time  to  meet  them  several  of  the  King's  trumpeters,  clothed  in 
white  and  shining  raiment,  who,  with  melodious  noises  and  loud  made 
even  the  heavens  echo  with  their  sound.  These  trumpeters  saluted 
Christian  and  his  fellow  with  ten  thousand  welcomes  from  the  world ; 
and  this  they  did  with  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet. 

This  done,  they  compassed  them  around  on  every  side ;  some  went 
before,  some  behind,  and  some  on  the  right  hand,  some  on  the  left  (as 
it  were  to  guard  them  through  the  upper  regions),  continually  sound- 
ing as  they  went,  with  melodious  noise,  in  notes  on  high ;  so  that  the 
very  sight  was  to  them  that  could  behold  it  as  if  heaven  itself  were 
come  down  to  meet  them.  Thus  therefore  they  walked  on  together; 
and  as  they  walked,  ever  and  anon  these  trumpeters,  even  with  joy- 
ful sound,  would,  by  mixing  their  music  with  looks  and  gestures,  still 
signify  to  Christian  and  his  brother  how  welcome  they  were  into  their 
company,  and  with  what  gladness  they  came  to  meet  them.  And  now 
were  these  two  men,  as  it  were,  in  heaven  before  they  came  at  it; 
being  swallowed  up  with  the  sight  of  angels,  and  with  hearing  their 
melodious  notes.  Here  also  they  had  the  cityitself  in  view  ;  and  they 
thought  they  heard  all  the  bells  therein  to  ring,  to  welcome  them 
thereto.  But,  above  all,  the  warm  and  joyful  thoughts  that  they  had 
about  their  own  dwelling  there  with  such  company,  and  that  for  ever 
and  ever;  oh!  by  what  tongue,  or  pen,  can  their  glorious  joy  be 
expressed  !     Thus  they  came  up  to  the  gate. 

Now,  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  gate,  there  was  written  over 
it,  in  letters  of  gold,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  do  his  commandments, 
that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and  may  enter  in  through 
the  gates  into  the  city."  (Rev.  22  :   14). 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  shining  men  bid  them  call  at  the 


Lord  and  of  his  Christ.  Meanwhile  the 
retinue  enlarges,  and  swells  into  a  glorious 
train  of  triumph  and  rejoicing  ;  and,  amid 
praises,  and  hallelujahs  and  glad  anthems 


of  the  skies,  "  an  entrance  is  ministered  unto 
them  abundantly  into  the  everlasting  king- 
dom of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  " 
(2  Peter  i  :   11). 


252 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


gate ;  the  which  when  they  did,  some  from  above  looked  over  the 
gate,  to  wit,  Enoch,  Moses,  and  EHjah,  etc.,  to  whom  it  was  said, 
These  Pilgrims  are  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  for  the  love 
that  they  bear  to  the  King  of  this  place ;  and  then  the  Pilgrims  gave 
in  unto  them  each  man  his  certificate,  which  they  had  received  in  the 
beginning ;  those  therefore  were  carried  in  to  the  King,  who,  when 
he  had  read  them,  said,  Where  are  the  men?  To  whom  it  was 
answered,  They  are  standing  without  the  gate.  The  King  then 
commanded  to  "open  the  gate,  that  the  righteous  nation,"  said  he, 
"that  keepeth  truth  may  enter  in"  (Isa.  26:  2). 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  two  men  went  in  at  the  gate  ; 
and  lo !  as  they  entered  they  were  transfigured ;  and  they  had  raiment 
put  on  that  shone  like  gold.  There  were  also  some  that  met  them 
with  harps  and  crowns,  and  gave  them  to  them  ;  the  harps  to  praise 
withal,  the  crowns  in  token  of  honor.  Then  I  heard  in  my  dream 
that  all  the  bells  in  the  city  rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it  was  said 
unto  them,  "  Enter  ye  into  the  joy  of  our  Lord."  I  also  heard  the 
men  themselves  sing  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  "  Blessing,  and  honor, 
and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and 
unto  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever"   (Rev.  5  :   13). 

Now,  just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men,  I  looked 
in  after  them,  and  behold  the  city  shone  like  the  sun  ;  the  streets 


Went  in  at  the  gate. — They  have  ascended 
the  hill  of  the  Lord  ;  and  now  they  enter,  by 
those  golden  gates,  the  object  of  their  long- 
ing hope  and  expectations,  for  which  they 
have  been  striving  all  their  journey  through. 
These  are  the  gates  they  had  seen  in  the 
distance,  through  the  telescope  of  faith. 
Their  faith  is  now  lost  in  sight ;  and  their 
hope  resigns  her  office,  for  all  is  full  fruition. 
This  is  their  Mount  of  Transfiguration — they 
shine  resplendent  as  the  sun  when  he  shineth 
in  his  strength,  with  transformed  powers  to 
bear   heir  transfigured  glory. 

/  looked  in  after  them. — As  it  were  a 
ghmpse,  and  but  for  a  moment,  revealed  to 
the  Dreamer;  enough  to  tell  him  that 
heaven  is  more  glorious  than  human  words 
can  possibly  describe,  or  human  heart  con- 
ceive. As  those  great  golden  gates  turned 
for  a  brief  moment  on  their  hinges,  a  view 
is  given  along  the  golden  streets  —the  grand 
and  glorious  vistas  of  the  City  of  the  Lord. 
And  then  the  inner  scene  is  closed  to  mortal 


eyes.  The  Pilgrims  have  reachea  their 
journey's  end,  and  are  safely  housed  in 
heaven.  He  that  once  wept  and  trembled 
outside  the  City  of  Destruction,  now  sings 
his  salvation  song  within  the  walls  of  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem — at  home,  at  rest,  for 
ever  with  the  Lord  ! 

"  His  soul  to  Him  who  gave  it  rose ; 
God  led  it  to  its  long  repose, 

Its  glorious  rest ! 
And,  though  the  warrioi's  sun  has  set, 
Its  light  shall  linger  round  us  yet, 

Bright,  radiant,  blest  1" 

/  wished  myself  among  them, — Oh,  that 
such  bhssful  dreams  could  but  become  real- 
ities !  Truly,  one  longs  to  be  there,  among 
the  myriad  choir,  among  the  harpers  harp- 
ing upon  their  harps  ;  to  enter  those  pearly 
gates,  to  tread  those  golden  streets,  to  wear 
those  jewelled  crowns,  to  wave  those  tri- 
umphant palms,  and  to  be  present  with  the 
Living  Lord !  But  it  must  be  to  us,  as  it 
was  to  the  Pilgrims — a  Progress  ;  and  if 
we  patiently  endure,  as  they  did,  to  the  end, 


The  Doom  of  Ig7iof-ance. 


253 


also  were  paved  with  gold ;  and  in  them  walked  many  men  with 
crowns  on  their  heads,  palms  in  their  hands,  and  golden  harps,  to 
sing  praises  withal. 

There  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they  answered 
one  another  without  intermission,  saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the 
Lord !  "  And  after  that  they  shut  up  the  gates  ;  which  when  I  had 
seen  I  wished  myself  among  them. 

Now,  while  I  was  gazing  upon  all  these  things,  I  turned  my  head 
to  lookback,  and  saw  Ignorance  come  up  to  the  river-side;  but  he 
soon  got  over,  and  that  without  half  the  difficulty  which  the  other 
two  men  met  with.  For  it  happened  that  there  was  then  in  that 
place  one  Vain-hope,  a  ferry-man,  that  with  his  boat  helped  him 
over.  So  he,  as  the  others  I  saw,  did  ascend  the  hill  to  come  up  to 
the  gate ;  only  he  came  alone  ;  neither  did  any  man  meet  him  with 
the  least  encouragement.  When  he  was  come  up  to  the  gate,  he 
looked  up  to  the  writing  that  was  above,  and  then  began  to  knock, 
supposing  that  entrance  should  have  been  quickly  administered  to 
him;  but  he  was  asked  by  the  men  who  looked  over  the  top  of  the 
gate,  Whence  come  you  ?  and  what  would  you  have  ?  He  answered, 
I  have  eaten  and  drunk  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  and  he  has 
taught  in  our  streets.  Then  they  asked  him  for  his  certificate,  that 
they  might  go  and  show  it  to  the  King.  So  he  fumbled  in  his 
bosom  for  one,  and  found  none.     Then  said  they.  Have  you  none  ? 


we  too  shall  be  saved,  and  shall  join  them 
in  the  blessed  throng  of  glorified  saints  in 
heaven. 

Now,  while  I  was  gazing. — To  please  the 
taste,  and  to  satisfy  the  utmost  cravings 
of  curiosity,  Bunyan  might  well  have  con- 
cluded here.  His  Pilgrims  once  safe  in 
Heaven,  what  more  can  we  need  to  know  ? 
But  he  writes  his  inimitable  Dream,  not  only 
to  please,  but  also  to  profit ;  not  only  to 
gratify,  but  also  to  admonish.  And,  accord- 
ingly, the  finishing  touch,  with  which  he 
concludes  his  Allegory,  is  one  of  the  darkest 
tints  contained  within  the  canvas  of  the  pict- 
ture.  Scarce  has  he  ceased  to  look  upon 
the  glories  opened  to  his  vision,  his  eyes  yet 
dazzled  by  the  sight,  when  he  beholds  just 
one  more  earthly  scene,  and  with  a  shudder 
of  alarm  the  Dreamer  awakes !  What  was 
this  scene  of  horror  ? 

As  soon  as  the  Dreamer  had  seen   the 


last  of  the  heavenly  vision,  he  saw  Igno- 
rance come  to  the  river-bank  ;  and,  strange 
to  say,  he  crossed,  without  any  difficulty, 
to  the  other  side !  This  is  a  representa- 
tion of  the  death  of  the  self-righteous 
man.  One  Vain-hope,  a  ferryman,  con- 
ducted him  across  the  stream.  What  a 
masterly  touch  is  this,  descriptive  of  the 
death  of  thousands,  who  have  no  bands 
in  their  death,  nor  fear,  as  other  folk  !  It 
is,  perhaps,  the  only  account  we  can  give  of 
the  unconcern  with  which  so  many  approach 
the  realities  of  the  death-bed  ;  and  if  Vain- 
hope  be  the  ferry-man,  Self-righteousness 
is  the  ferry-boat.  Aye,  and  large  convoys 
of  these  spiritual  emigrants  are  day  by  day 
being  conveyed  across  in  this  frail,  perilous 
bark,  all  unconscious  of  the  fathomless 
depths  beneath,  and  of  the  vast  future  be- 
yond. 

Ignorance  has  crossed  the  flood  of  Death 


254 


The  Pilgrhns  Progress. 


But  the  man  answered  never  a  word.  So  they  told  the  King,  but 
he  would  not  come  down  to  see  him;  but  commanded  the  two 
shining  ones,  that  conducted  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  the  city,  to 
go  out  and  take  Ignorance,  and  bind  him  hand  and  foot,  and  have 
him  away.  Then  they  took  him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the 
air  to  the  door  that  I  saw  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in 
there.  Then  I  saw  that  there  was  a  way  to  hell,  even  from  the 
gates  of  heaven,  as  well  as  from  the  City  of  Destruction.  So  I 
awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a  dream. 


—  all,  both  bad  and  good,  must  cross  it 
somehow — but  he  meets  no  shining  ones, 
and  has  no  escort  to  the  gates  of  the  city. 
He  has  no  credential,  no  pledge  or  token  of 
acceptance,  no  sealed  roll,  no  robe  of  right- 
eousness, no  wedding  garment.  So  he  an- 
swered never  a  word  !  Volubly  enough  did 
he  talk  to  the  Pilgrims  in  the  Enchanted 
Ground ;  but  now  he  has  not  a  word  to  utter 
— he  is  "speechless"  (Matt.  22:  12). 

Here  mark  the  difference  ! — The  shining 
ones  that  had  conducted  Christian  and 
Hopeful  to  the  Gates,  are  now  commis- 
sioned to  conduct  Ignorance,  bound  hand 
and  foot,  to  the  Door  in  the  side  of  the  hill 


The  same  angels  that  bind  the  wheat  in 
sheaves,  to  be  treasured  in  the  garner,  shall 
bind  the  tares  in  bundles,  to  be  cast  into  the 
fire  !  And  these  shining  ones  executed  the 
commission  of  their  Lord.  "  Then  I  saw," 
says  the  Dreamer,  "  there  was  away  to  hell, 
even  from  the  gates  of  heaven,  as  well  as 
from  the  City  of  Destruction  !" 

Thus,  in  this  wondrous  Allegory,  the 
sinner  is  the  last  remembered,  and  his  fate 
supplies  the  final  touch  ;  and  with  the  echoes 
of  that  awful  sentence,  still  vibrating  in  the 
ears  of  Christendom,  the  First  Part  of  the 
Dream  concludes. 

"  So  I  awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a  Dream!" 


'Twas  not  a  vision  of  my  sleep,  nor  dream  that  fancy  paints; 

It  was  a  view  of  heaven  itself,  the  dwelling-place  of  saints. 

It  was  the  glory  of  the  Lord  the  Spirit  hath  reveal'd: 

'i'he  final  haopiness  of  those  that  God  the  Father  seal'd. 

This  was  the  sijjht  from  which  I  woke,  and  looked  and  looked  again, 

And  though  their  pilg^rimage  was  o'er,  I  yet  was  on  the  plain  ; 

And  in  the  rugged  wilderness,  I  looked  and  sighed  in  prayer, 

"  O  God !  complete  my  pilgrimage,  conduct  me  safely  there  1" 


(i>oncfa^ion. 


OW,  Reader,  I  have  told  my  Dream  to  thee, 
See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me, 
Or  to  thyself,  or  neighbor ;  but  take  heed 
Of  misinterpreting- ;  for  that,  instead 
Of  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse ; 
By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 

Take  heed  also  that  thou  be  not  extreme 
In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  Dream; 
Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 
Put  thee  into  a  laughter  or  a  feud. 
Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools ;  but  as  for  thee. 
Do  thou  the  substance  of  my  matter  see. 

Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  the  veil, 
Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  not  fail. 
There  if  thou  seekest  them,  such  things  thoul't  find 
As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 

What  of  my  dross  thou  findest  there,  be  bold 
To  throw  away,  but  yet  preserve  the  gold. 
What  if  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore? 
None  throws  away  the  apple  for  the  core; 
But  if  thou  shalt  cast  all  away  as  vain, 
I  know  not  but  'twill  make  me  dream  again. 


^^^>'^»—- 


'^5) 


fie    eKutfior'/^    ©Y^a^    o^    ^enilin 
iJortPi  gKi^   ^econc|   part 


17 


O  now,  my  little  Book,  to  every  place 
Where  my  First  Pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face ; 
Call  at  their  door  ;  if  any  say.    Who  s  there  ? 
Then  answer  thou,  Christiana  is  here. 
If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  then  enter  thou. 
With  all  thy  boys ;  and  then,  as  thou  know'st  how, 
Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came ; 
Perhaps  they'll  know  them  by  their  looks  or  name; 
But  if  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again. 
If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 
One  Christian,  a  Pilgrim  ?    If  they  say 
They  did  and  were  delighted  in  his  way, 
Then  let  them  know  that  these  related  were 
Unto  him ;  yea,  his  Wife  and  Children  are. 

Tell  them,  that  they  have  left  their  house  and  home; 
Are  turned  Pilgrims ;  seek  a  World  to  come ; 
That  they  have  met  with  hardships  in  the  way  ; 
That  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day ; 
That  they  have  trod  on  serpents ;  fought  with  devils ; 
Have  also  overcome  a  many  evils  ; 
Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next  who  have. 
Of  love  to  Pilgri7nage,  been  stout  and  brave 
Defenders  of  that  Way ;  and  how  they  still 
Refuse  this  World  to  do  their  Father's  will. 

<^7) 


258  The  Author's  Apology. 

Gc»  tell  them  also  of  those  dainty  things 
That  Pilgrimage  unto  the  Pilgrim  brings, 
Let  them  acquainted  be,  too,  how  they  are 
Beloved  of  their  King,  under  his  care  ; 
What  goodly  mansions  for  them  he  provides  ; 
Though  they  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tides ; 
How  brave  a  calm  they  will  enjoy  at  last, 
Who  to  their  Lord,  and  by  his  ways  hold  fasL 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embrace 
Thee  as  they  did  my  firsding ;  and  will  grace 
Thee  and  thy  fellows  with  such  cheer  and  fare, 
As  show  well  they  of  Pilgrims  lovers  are. 

OBJECTION  I. 

But  how  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  I  am  truly  thine?  'cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  Pilgrim  and  his  name, 
Seek,  by  disguise,  to  seem  the  very  same ; 
And  by  that  means  have  wrought  themselves  into 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I  know  not  who. 

ANSWER. 

'TIs  true,  some  have,  of  late,  to  counterfeit 
My  Pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  dtle  set ; 
Yea,  others  half  my  name,  and  title  too. 
Have  stitched  to  their  books,  to  make  them  do. 
But  yet  they,  by  their  features,  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be,  whose  e'er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meet'st  with,  then  thine  only  way, 
Before  them  all,  is  to  say  out  thy  say 
In  thine  own  native  language,  which  no  man 
Now  useth,  nor  with  ease  dissemble  can. 

If,  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt, 
Thinking  that  you,  like  gypsies  go  about 
In  naughty-wise  the  country  to  defile, 
Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 


The  Authors  Apology.  259 

With  things  unwarrantable,  send  for  me, 
And  I  will  testify  you  Pilgrims  be ; 
Yea,  I  will  testify  that  only  you 
My  Pilgrims  are ;  and  that  alone  will  do. 

OBJECTION    II, 

But  yet,  perhaps,  I  may  inquire  for  him 
Of  those  who  wish  him  damned  life  and  limb. 
What  shall  I  do,  when  I  at  such  a  door 
For  Pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more  ? 

ANSWER. 

Fright  not  thyself,  niy  Book,  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 
My  Pilgrim's  book  has  travell'd  sea  and  land, 
Yet  could  I  never  come  to  understand 
That  it  was  sliofhted  or  turn'd  out  of  door, 
By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 

In  France  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other, 
My  Pilgrim  is  esteem'd  a  friend,  a  brother. 

In  Holland,  too,  'tis  said,  as  I  am  told, 
My  Pilgrim  is,  with  some,  worth  more  than  gold. 

Highlanders  and  wild  Irish  can  agree, 
My  Pilgrim  should  familiar  w^ith  them  be. 

'Tis  in  New  England  under  such  advance, 
Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance. 
As  to  be  trimm'd,  new  cloth'd,  and  deck'd  with  gems, 
That  it  might  show  its  features  and  its  limbs. 
Yet  more  :  so  comely  doth  my  Pilgrim  w^alk, 
That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear. 
My  Pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear : 
City  and  country  will  him  entertain. 
With  IVeUome  Pilgi'im ;  yea,  they  can't  refrain 


260  The  Authors  Apology, 

From  smiling,  if  my  Pilgrim  be  but  by, 
Or  shows  his  head  in  any  company. 

Brave  gallants  do  my  Pilgrim  hug  and  love, 
Esteem  it  much  :  yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a  greater  bulk  ;  yea,  with  delight 
Say,  my  lark's  leg  is  better  than  a  kite. 

Young  ladies,  and  young  gentlewomen,  too, 
Do  no  small  kindness  to  my  Pilgrim  show : 
Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts, 
My  Pilgrim  has  ;  'cause  he  to  them  imparts 
His  pretty  riddles  in  such  wholesome  strains. 
As  yield  them  profit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  be  bold 
To  say  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 

The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street, 
If  they  but  do  my  holy  Pilgrim  meet, 
Salute  him  will ;  will  wish  him  well  and  say, 
He  is  the  only  stripling  of  the  day. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  admire 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company,  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  who  did  not  love  him  at  the  first, 
But  call'd  \\\v[\fool  and  noddy,  say  they  must, 
Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend. 
And  to  those  whom  they  love  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore,  my  Second  Part,  thou  need'st  not  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head  ;  none  can  hurt  thee, 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before : 
'Cause  thou  com'st  after  with  a.  second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable, 
For  young  or  old,  for  staggering,  and  for  stable. 


The  Author  s  Apology.  261 

OBJECTION    III. 

But  some  there  be  that  say,  He  laughs  too  loud ; 
And  some  do  say,  His  head  is  in  a  cloud  ; 
Some  say,  His  words  and  stories  are  so  dark, 
They  know  not  how,  by  them,  to  find  his  mark. 

ANSWER. 

One  may,  I  think,  say,  both  his  laughs  and  cries 
May  well  be  guess'd  at  by  his  watery  eyes. 
Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One's  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache ; 
When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep, 
He  did  at  the  same  time  both  kiss  and  weep. 

Whereas  some  say,  A  cloud  is  in  his  head ; 
That  doth  but  show  his  wisdom's  covered 
With  its  own  mantle.     And  to  stir  the  mind 
To  a  search  after  what  it  fain  would  find, 
Thinofs  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure 
Do  but  the  godly  mind  the  more  allure 
To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain. 
That  speak  to  us  in  such  a  cloudy  strain. 
I  also  know  a  dark  similitude 
Will  on  the  fancy  more  itself  intrude. 
And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head 
Than  things  from  similes  not  borrowed. 

Wherefore,  my  Book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels.     Behold  !  thou  art  sent 
To  friends,  not  foes  ;  to  friends  that  will  give  place 
To  thee,  thy  Pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 

Besides,  what  my  First  Pilgrim  left  conceal'd, 
Thou,  my  brave  Second  Pilgrim,  hast  reveal'd. 
What  Christian  left  lock'd  up,  and  went  his  way, 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 

OBJECTION    IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first : 
Romance  they  count  it ;  throw 't  away  as  dust. 


262  The  AutJuv's  Apology. 

It  I  should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I  say? 
Must  I  slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay  ? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet. 
By  all  means,  in  all  loving  wise  them  greet ; 
Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile  ; 
But,  if  they  frown,  I  pr'ythee  on  them  smile  ; 
Perhaps  'tis  nature,  or  some  ill  report, 
Has  made  them  thus  despise  or  thus  retort. 

Some  love  no  fish,  some  love  no  cheese,  and  some 
Love  not  their  friends,  nor  their  own  house  or  home ; 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chicken,  love  not  fowl, 
More  than  they  love  a  cuckoo  or  an  owl. 
Leave  such,  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice, 
And  seek  those  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice; 
By  no  means  strive,  but,  in  most  humble  wise. 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  Pilgrim's  guise. 

Go,  then,  my  litde  Book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain,  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 
What  thou  shalt  keep  close  shut  up  from  the  rest. 
And  wish  what  thou  shalt  show  them  may  be  blest 
To  them  for  eood,  and  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  better  by  far  than  thee  or  me. 

Go,  then,  I  say,  tell  all  men  who  thou  art ; 
Say  I  am  Christiana  ;  and  my  part 
Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  tell  you  what 
It  is  for  men  to  take  a  Pilgrim's  lot. 

Go,  also,  tell  them  who  and  what  they  be 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee ; 
Say,  Here's  my  neighbor  Mercy  ;  she  is  one 
That  has  long  time  with  me  a  Pilgrim  gone ; 
Come,  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
'Twixt  idle  ones  and  Pilgrims  to  discern. 
Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  is  to  come,  in  any  wise. 


The  Authors  Apology.  263 

When  little  tripping  maidens  follow  God, 
And  leave  old  doting  sinners  to  his  rod, 
'Tis  like  those  days  wherein  the  young  ones  cried 
Hosanna  !  to  whom  old  ones  did  deride. 

Next  tell  them  of  old  Honest,  whom  you  found 
With  his  white  hairs  treading  the  Pilgrim's  ground ; 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was, 
How  after  his  good  Lord  he  bare  his  cross. 
Perhaps  with  some  gray  head  this  may  prevail 
With  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin  bewail. 

Tell  them  also  how  Master  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage,  and  how  the  time  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries  ; 
And  how,  at  last,  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 
He  was  a  good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit ; 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  doth  life  inherit. 

Tell  them  of  Master  Feeble-mind  also, 
Who  not  before,  but  still  behind  would  go. 
Show  them  also,  how  he  had  like  been  slain, 
And  how  one  Great-heart  did  his  life  regain. 
This  man  was  true  of  heart,  though  weak  in  grace  ; 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  of  Master  Ready-to-halt, 
A  man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault. 
Tell  them  how  Master  Feeble-mind  and  he 
Did  love,  and  in  opinions  much  agree. 
And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  chance, 
Yet  sometimes  one  could  sing,  the  other  dance. 

Forget  not  Master  Valiant-for-the-truth, 
That  man  of  courage,  though  a  very  youth. 
Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout. 
No  man  could  ever  make  him  face  about ; 
And  how  Great-heart  and  he  could  not  forbear, 
But  null  down  Doubting  Casde,  slay  Despair ! 


264  The  Author  s  Apology. 

Overlook  not  Master  Despondency, 
Nor  Much-afraid,  his  daughter,  though  they  lie 
Under  such  mantles  as  may  make  them  look 
(With  some)  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 
They  softly  went,  but  sure,  and,  at  the  end, 
Found  that  the  Lord  of  Pilgrims  was  their  friend. 

When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things, 
Then  turn  about,  my  Book,  and  touch  these  strings ; 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make. 
They'll  make  a  cripple  dance,  a  giant  quake. 

Those  riddles  that  lie  couch'd  within  thy  breast, 
Freely  propound,  expound  ;  and  for  the  rest 
Of  thy  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain 
For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain. 

Now  may  this  little  Book  a  blessing  be 
To  those  that  love  this  little  Book  and  mt^ 
And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say, 
His  money  is  but  lost  or  thrown  away. 
Yea,  may  this  Second  Pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  Pilgrim's  fancy  suit ; 
And  may  it  persuade  some  that  go  astray, 
To  turn  their  feet  and  heart  to  the  right  way, 

Is  the  hearty  prayer  of 

The  Author y 

joHr<  p.;^NYAK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Christiana. 

So  Christian  completed  his  pilgrimage,  and  finished  his  course  with  joy.  As  a 
twave  hero  in  the  spiritual  strife,  we  have  followed  his  bold  career.  His  Hke-minded  com- 
panions, full  of  faith  and  hope,  have  well  fulfilled  their  parts,  and  contributed  not  a  httle 
to  the  sustained  interest  of  the  story  ;  yet,  in  the  account  of  Christian's  pilgrimage,  wo 
cannot  forget  that  he  has  been  alone,  the  one  solitary  member  of  his  family  who  has  ad- 
ventured this  great  enterprise.  He  started  alone,  and  trod  the  path  of  the  highway  alone, 
and  alone  he  attained  the  goal  of  the  pilgrimage — that  is,  without  wife  or  child  to  cheer  his 
checkered  course,  to  support  his  oft-dechning  strength,  or  to  bear  him  company  in  either  his 
sorrows  or  his  joys.  And,  for  aught  we  know,  the  opposition  offered  by  his  family  to  his 
Hrst  setting  out  from  the  City  of  Destruction  may  have  been  continued  even  to  his  journey's 
end. 

|OME  time  since,  to  tell  you  of  my  dream  that  I  had  of 
Christian  the  pilgrim,  and  of  his  dangerous  journey 
towards  the  Celestial  Country,  was  plesant  to  me  and 
profitable  to  you.  I  told  you  then  also  what  I  saw  con- 
cerning his  wife  and  children,  and  how  unwilling  they 
were  to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage ;  insomuch  that  he  was  forced  to 
go  on  his  progress  without  them  ;  for  he  durst  not  run  the  danger  of 
that  destruction  which  he  feared  would  come  by  staying  with  them 
in  the  City  of  Destruction.  Wherefore,  as  I  then  showed  you,  he 
left  them  and  then  departed. 

Now  it  hath  so  happened,  through  the  multiplicity  of  business, 
that  I  have  been  much  hindered  and  kept  back  from  my  wonted  travels 
into  those  parts  where  he  went,  and  so  could  not,  till  now,  obtain  an 
opportunity  to  make  further  inquiry  after  those  whom  he  left  behind, 
that  I  might  give  you  an  account  of  them.  But,  having  had  some 
concerns  that  way  of  late,  I  went  down  again  thitherward.  Now, 
having  taken  up  my  lodging  in  a  wood,  about  a  mile  off  the  place,  as 
I  slept  I  dreamed  again. 


1  dreamed  again. — The  First  Part  of  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress  had  been  written  in 
the  jail  of  Bedford.  The  Second  Part  was 
produced  a  few  years  later,  when,  it  would 
Appear,  Bunyan  was  again  a  free  man,  and 


residing  in  his  native  village  of  Elstow, 
which  is  "  about  a  mile  off  the  place"  in 
which  the  former  Part  had  been  indited. 

The  second   Dream  is  in  many  respects 
unlike   its  predecessor.     The   First  Part  is 


(265) 


266 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


And,  as  I  was  in  my  dream,  behold  an  aged  gentleman  came  by 
where  I  lay;  and,  because  he  was  to  go  some  part  of  the  way  that  I 
was  travelling,  methought  I  got  up  and  went  with  him.  So,  as  we 
walked,  and  as  travellers  usually  do,  I  was  as  if  we  fell  into  a  discourse, 
and  our  talk  happened  to  be  about  Christian  and  his  travels  ;  for  thus 
I  began  with  the  old  man  : 

Sir,  said  1,  what  town  is  that  there  below,  that  lieth  on  the  left 
hand  of  our  way? 

Then  said  Mr.  Sagacity  (for  that  was  his  name).  It  is  the  City 
of  Destruction,  a  populous  place,  but  possessed  with  a  very  ill  con- 
ditioned and  idle  sort  of  people. 

I  thought  that  was  that  city,  quoth  I ;  I  went  once  myself  through 
that  town,  and  therefore  I  know  that  this  report  you  give  of  it  is 
true. 

Sag.  Too  true.  I  wish  I  could  speak  truth  in  speaking  better  of 
them  that  dwell  therein. 

Well,  Sir,  quoth  I,  then  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  well-meaning  man, 
ind  so  one  that  takes  pleasure  to  hear  and  tell  of  that  which  is  good. 
Pray  did  you  ever  hear  what  happened  to  a  man  some  time  ago  in 
this  town  (whose  name  was  Christian),  that  went  on  a  pilgrimage  up 
towards  the  higher  regions  ? 

Sag.  Hear  of  him !  aye,  and  I  also  heard  of  the  molestations,  trou- 
bles, wars,  captivities,  cries,  groans,  frights,  and  fears,  that  he  met 
with  and  had  on  his  journey.  Besides,  I  must  tell  you,  all  our  coun- 
try rings  of  him ;  there  are  but  few  houses,  that  have  heard  of  him  and 
his  doings,  but  have  sought  after  and  got  the  records  of  his  pilgrim- 
age ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  say,  that  this  hazardous  journey  has  got  many 


g^ave  and  weighty,  stern  and  rugged  in  its 
experiences ;  the  Second  Part  is  of  a  more 
domestic  and  famihar  character,  entering 
into  the  ordinary  associations  of  life,  and 
deahng  with  family  scenes  and  concerns  of 
every-day  experience.  In  the  former  Part 
we  see  great  stalwart  heroes  of  the  Lord, 
who  fill  the  canvas,  and  command  the  atten- 
tion of  the  reader,  like  Elijah,  or  St.  Paul. 
In  this  Second  Part  we  come  down  to  the 
level  of  domestic  life,  and  are  enabled  to 
trace  out  the  career  of  godly  women  and 
Christian  children  in  the  Pilgrimage  of  Zion. 
//  ii  the  City  of  Destruction. — The  story 
starts  from  the  same  point  as  before — the 
same  City  of  Destruction,  as  populous,  as 


profane,  and  as  wicked  as  it  had  been  in 
Christian's  days.  The  bygone  pilgrim- 
age, however,  had  come  to  be  known  and 
read  of  all  men,  and  its  protest  against  the 
wicked  ways  of  the  city  had  left  an  impres- 
sion upon  the  people's  minds  that  could  not 
easily  be  removed.  The  death  of  Chris- 
tian, answering  so  consistently  to  his  holy 
life,  had  deepened  this  impression,  and  had 
inclined  some  of  his  former  townsmen  to 
follow  his  steps. 

All  our  country  rings  of  him. — This  was 
true  even  in  Bunyan's  own  day ;  how  much 
more  so  now,  when  it  may  be  said  of  all 
lands  in  Christendom  :  "  There  are  but  few 
houses  that  have  heard  of  him  and  his  do- 


Christian's  Gain. 


267 


CHRISTIANA'S  REPENTANCE. 


well-wishers  to  his  ways ;  for,  though  when  he  was  here,  he  was/oo/ 
in  every  man's  mouth,  yet  now  he  is  gone  he  is  highly  commended  for 
all.  For  it  is  said  he  lives  bravely  where  he  is;  yea,  many  of  them 
that  are  resolved  never  to  run  his  hazards,  yet  have  their  mouths 
water  at  his  gains. 

They  may,  quoth  I,  well  think,  if  they  think  anything  that  is  true, 
that  heliveth  well  where  he  is  ;  for  he  now  lives  at  and  in  the  Fountain 
of  Life,  and  has  what  he  has  without  labor  and  sorrow  ;  for  there  is 
no  grief  mixed  therewith.  But,  pray,  what  talk  have  the  people 
about  him  ? 

Sag.  Talk  !  the  people  talk  strangely  about  him  ;  some  say  that 
he  now  walks  in  white  (Rev.  3:  4;  6:  11);  that  he  has  a  chain 
of  gold  about  his  neck;  that  he  has  a  crown  of  gold  beset  with 
pearls,  upon  his  head :  others  say,  that  the  shining  ones  that  some- 
times showed  themselves  to  him  in  his  journey  are  become  his  com- 


268 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


panlons,  and  that  he  is  as  familiar  with  them  in  the  place  where  he  is 
as  here  one  neighbor  is  with  another  (Zech.  3:7).  Besides,  it  is 
confidently  affirmed  concerning  him,  that  the  King  of  the  place  where 
he  is  has  bestowed  upon  him  already  a  very  rich  and  pleasant  dwell- 
ing at  court,  and  that  he  every  day  eateth  and  drinketh  and  walketh 
and  talketh  with  him,  and  receiveth  the  smiles  and  favors  of  him  that 
is  Judge  of  all  there.  Moreover,  it  is  expected  of  some,  that  his 
Prince,  the  Lord  of  that  country,  will  shortly  come  into  these  parts, 
and  will  know  the  reason,  if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neighbors  set 
so  little  by  him  and  had  him  so  much  in  derision,  when  they  perceived 
that  he  would  be  a  pilgrim  (Jude  14,  15). 

For  they  say,  that  now  he  is  so  in  the  affections  of  his  Prince, 
and  that  his  Sovereign  is  so  much  concerned  with  the  indignities  that 
were  cast  upon  Christian,  when  he  became  a  pilgrim,  that  he  will  look 
upon  all  as  if  done  to  himself;  and  no  marvel,  for  it  was  for  the  love 
that  he  had  to  his  Prince,  that  he  ventured  as  he  did  (Luke  10 ;   16). 

I  dare  say,  quoth  I,  I  am  glad  on't;  I  am  glad  for  the  poor  man's 
sake,  for  that  now  he  has  rest  from  his  labor,  and  for  that  he  now 
reapeth  the  benefit  of  his  tears  with  joy  (Rev.  14:  13;  Ps.  126:  5,  6); 
and  for  that  he  has  got  beyond  the  gunshot  of  his  enemies,  and  is 
out  of  the  reach  of  them  that  hate  him.  I  also  am  glad  for  that  a 
rumor  of  these  things  is  noised  abroad  in  this  country;  who  can  tell 
but  that  it  may  work  some  good  effect  on  some  that  are  left  behind  ? 
— But  pray.  Sir,  while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind,  do  you  hear  anything  of 
his  wife  and  children  ?  Poor  hearts  !  I  wonder  in  my  mind  what 
they  do. 

Sag.  Who  ?  Christiana  and  her  sons  ?  They  are  like  to  do 
as  well  as  did  Christian  himself;  for,  though  they  all  played  the  fool 
at  first,  and  would  by  no  means  be  persuaded  by  either  the  tears  or 
entreaties  of  Christian,  yet  second  thoughts  have  wrought  wonder- 
fully with  them  ;  so  they  have  packed  up  and  are  also  gone  after  him. 

Better  and  better,  quoth  L  But  what !  wife,  and  children,  and 
all? 

Sag.    It  is  true :  I  can  give  you  an  account  of  the  matter ;  for 


ings,  but  have  sought  after  and  got  the  rec- 
rds  of  his  pilgrimage."      No  book  of  un- 
inspired origin  has  been  more  widely  read 
ihan  the  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

Anything  of  his  wife  and  children? — This 
question  introduces  the  details  of  the  Second 
Pilgrimage:  Christiana  had  resisted  con- 


viction during  the  whole  period  of  her  hus- 
band's hfetime.  His  death — when  he  had 
gone  "  over  the  river  " — awakened  her  con- 
science to  a  sense  of  her  own  sin,  and  of  her 
guilt  in  joining  hand-in-hand  with  the  un- 
godly, to  resist  good  Christian's  desires  for 
heaven,  and  his  earnest  efforts  to  attain  i*^ 


Sagacity's  Account  of  Christiana.  269 

I  was  upon  the  spot  a*  the  instant,  and  was  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  whole  affair. 

Then,  said  I,  a  man  may,  it  seems,  report  it  for  truth. 

Sag.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it.  I  mean,  that  they  are  all 
gone  on  pilgrimage,  both  the  good  woman  and  her  four  boys.  And 
seeing  we  are,  as  I  perceive,  going  some  considerable  way  together, 
I  will  give  you  an  account  of  the  whole  matter. 

This  Christiana  (for  that  was  her  name  from  the  day  that  she 
with  her  children  betook  themselves  to  a  pilgrim's  life),  after  her 
husband  was  gone  over  the  river,  and  she  could  hear  of  him  no 
more,  began  to  have  thoughts  working  in  her  mind :  first,  for  that 
she  had  lost  her  husband,  and  for  that  the  loving  bond  of  that 
relation  was  utterly  broken  betwixt  them.  For  you  know,  said  he 
to  me,  nature  can  do  no  less  but  entertain  the  living  with  many  a 
heavy  cogitation,  in  the  remembrance  of  the  loss  of  loving  relations. 
This,  therefore,  of  her  husband  did  cost  her  many  a  tear.  But  this 
was  not  all ;  for  Christiana  did  also  begin  to  consider  with  herself, 
whether  her  unbecoming  behavior  towards  her  husband  was  not  one 
cause  that  she  saw  him  no  more,  and  that  in  such  sort  he  was  taken 
away  from  her.  And  upon  this  came  into  her  mind,  by  swarms,  all 
her  unkind,  unnatural,  and  ungodly  carriage  to  her  dear  friend;  which 
also  clogged  her  conscience,  and  did  load  her  with  guilt.  She  was  more- 
over much  broken  with  calling  to  remembrance  the  restless  groans,  the 
brinish  tears,  and  self-bemoanings  of  her  husband,  and  how  she  did 
harden  her  heart  against  all  his  entreaties  and  loving  persuasions  of 
her  and  her  sons  to  go  with  him.  Yea,  there  was  not  anything  that 
Christian  either  said  to  her,  or  did  before  her,  all  the  while  that  his 
burden  did  hang  on  his  back,  but  it  returned  upon  her  like  a  flash 
of  lightning,  and  rent  the  caul  of  her  heart  in  sunder:  especially  that 
bitter  outcry  of  his,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  did  ring  in 
her  ears  most  dolefully. 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  Sons,  we  are  all  undone !  I 
have  sinned  away  your  father,  and  he  is  gone;  he  would  have  had 
us  with  him,  but  I  would  not  go  myself;  I  also  have  hindered  you  of 
life.  With  that  the  boys  fell  all  into  tears,  and  cried  out  to  go  after 
their  father.  Oh !  said  Christiana,  that  it  had  been  but  our  lot  to 
go  with  him ;  then  it  had  fared  well  with  us,  beyond  what  it  is  likely 
to  do  now.  For,  though  I  formerly  foolishly  imagined  concerning 
the  troubles  of  your  father,  that  they  proceeded  of  a  foolish  fancv 
that  he  had,  or  for  that  he  was  overrun  with  melancholy  humors, 


270 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


yet  now  it  will  not  out  of  my  mind  but  that  they  sprang  from 
another  cause ;  to  wit,  for  that  the  light  of  life  was  given  him 
(John  8:  12);  by  the  help  of  which,  as  I  perceive,  he  has  escaped  the 
snares  of  death.  Then  they  all  wept  again,  and  cried  out,  Oh,  woe 
worth  the  day  ! 

The  next  night  Christiana  had  a  dream ;  and  behold  she  saw  as 
if  a  broad  parchment  was  opened  before  her,  in  which  was  recorded 
the  sum  of  her  ways  ;  and  the  crimes,  as  she  thought,  looked  very 
black  upon  her.  Then  she  cried  out  aloud  in  her  sleep,  "  Lord,  have 
mercy  upon  me,  a  sinner!"  (Luke  18:  13),  and  the  little  children 
heard  her. 

After  this,  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill-favored  ones  standing 
by  her  bedside,  and  saying,  What  shall  we  do  with  this  woman? 
for  she  cries  out  for  mercy  waking  and  sleeping;  if  she  be  suffered 
to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her 
husband.  Wherefore  we  must,  by  one  way  or  other,  seek  to  take 
her  off  from  the  thoughts  of  what  she  shall  be  hereafter;  else  all  the 
world  cannot  help  but  she  will  become  a  pilgrim. 

Now  she  awoke  in  a  great  sweat ;  also  a  trembling  was  upon 
her;  but  after  a  while  she  fell  to  sleeping  again.  And  then  she 
thought  she  saw  Christian,  her  husband,  in  a  place  of  bliss  among 
many  immortals,  with  a  harp  in  his  hand,  standing  and  playing 
upon  it  before  One  that  sat  upon  a  throne,  with  a  rainbow  about 
his  head.  She  saw  also,  as  if  he  bowed  his  head  with  his  face 
towards  the  paved  work  that  was  under  his  Prince's  feet,  saying,  I 
heartily  thank  my  Lord  and  King  for  bringing  me  into  this  place. 
Then  shouted  a  company  of  them  that  stood  round  about  and 
harped  with  their  harps;  but  no  man  living  could  tell  what  they 
said,  but  Christian  and  his  companions. 


Christiana  had  a  dream. — She  had  three 
dreams — two  for  her  admonition,  and  one 
for  her  encouragement.  These  dreams  in- 
dicate the  promptings  of  her  mind,  as  they 
arose  from  the  power  of  Satan,  or  from  the 
struggles  of  Divine  grace,  or  from  the  love 
of  God  revealing  itself  to  her  soul. 

(i)  The  dream  of  the  broad  parchment — 
the  scroll  of  remembrance.  This  -vas  for 
conviction  of  her  sin.  Christian  had  felt 
his  sin  as  the  weary  burden  on  his  back, 
and  Christiana  now  sees  her  sin  unfolded 
to  her  conscience  in  the  record  of  the  roll. 


Thus,  by  different  ways,  conviction  and  con- 
sciousness of  sin  are  brought  home  to  the 
heart  of  the  sinner. 

(2)  The  sight  of  the  two  ill-favored  ones. 
This  was  an  effort  of  the  carnal  mind  to 
shake  off  conviction  of  sin,  and  to  win  back 
the  awakened  conscience  to  its  sleep  again. 
This  dream  was,  however,  in  mercy  sug- 
gested, being  a  presentiment  of  a  scene  by- 
and-by  to  happen,  and  a  premonition  tc 
Christiana,  who  was  thereby  forewarned 
of  a  temptation  that  would  ere  long  arise. 

(3)  The  vision  of  her  husband  in   glory 


A  Messenger  for  Christiana. 


271 


CHRISTIAxNA  PREPARES  TO  DEPART. 

Next  morning,  when  she  was  up,  had  prayed  to  God,  and 
talked  with  her  children  a  while,  one  knocked  hard  at  the  door;  to 
whom  she  spake,  saying,  If  thou  comest  in  God's  name,  come  in. 
So  he  said,  Amen ;  and  opened  the  door,  and  saluted  her  with, 
"  Peace  be  to  this  house  !  "  The  which  when  he  had  done,  he  said, 
Christiana,  knowest  thou  wherefore  I  am  come?  Then  she  blushed 
and  trembled  ;  also  her  heart  began  to  wax  warm  with  desires  to 
know  from  whence  he  came,  and  what  was  his  errand  to  her.  So  he 
said  unto  her.  My  name  is  Secret ;  I  dwell  with  those  that  are  on  high. 
It  is  talked  of,  where  I  dwell,  as  if  thou  hadst  a  desire  to  go  thither; 


This  dream  was  sent  for  her  encouragement. 
She  is  enabled  in  some  measure  to  realize 
her  husband's  bliss,  the  glory  that  is  beyond 
the  tomb.   She  is  thus  encouraged  to  advent- 


ure the  journey,  for  the  attainment  of  "  the 
rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God  " 
One  knocked  hard  at  the  door. — The  in- 
ward musings  of  the  ^wakened  soul  are  an- 


272 


The  Pilgrims  Progress, 


also  there  is  a  report,  that  thou  art  aware  of  the  evil  thou  hast  fornix 
erly  done  to  thy  husband,  in  hardening  of  thy  heart  against  his  way, 
and  in  keeping  of  these  babes  in  their  ignorance.  Christiana,  the^ 
Merciful  One  has  sent  me  to  tell  thee  that  he  is  a  God  ready  to 
forgive,  and  that  he  taketh  delight  in  multiplying  the  pardon  of 
offences.  He  also  would  have  thee  to  know  that  he  inviteth  thee  to 
come  into  his  presence,  to  his  table ;  and  that  he  will  feed  thee  with 
the  fat  of  his  house,  and  with  the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy  father. 
There  is  Christian,  thy  husband  that  was,  with  legions  more,  his 
companions,  ever  beholding  that  face  that  doth  minister  life  to  the 
beholders ;  and  they  will  all  be  glad  when  they  shall  hear  the  sound 
of  thy  feet  step  over  thy  Father's  threshold. 

Christiana  at  this  was  greatly  abashed  in  herself,  and  bowed  her 
head  to  the  ground.  This  vision  proceeded,  and  said,  Christiana, 
here  is  also  a  letter  for  thee,  which  I  have  brought  to  thee  from  thy 
husband's  King. 

So  she  took  it  and  opened  it ;  but  it  smelt  after  the  nianner  of 
the  best  perfume  (Sol.  Song  i  :  3).  Also  it  was  written  in  letters  of 
gold.  The  contents  of  the  letter  were  these  :  that  the  King  would 
have  her  to  do  as  did  Christian  her  husband ;  for  that  was  the  only 
way  to  come  to  his  City,  and  to  dwell  in  his  presence  with  joy  for 
ever.  At  this  the  good  woman  was  quite  overcome ;  so  she  cried  out 
to  her  visitor,  Sir,  will  you  carry  me  and  my  children  with  you,  that 
we  also  may  go  and  worship  the  King  ? 

Then  said  the  visitor,  Christiana,  "the  bitter  is  before  the 
sweet."  Thou  must  through  troubles,  as  he  did  that  went  before 
thee,  enter  this  Celestial  City.  Wherefore  I  advise  thee  to  do  as  did 
Christian  thy  husband  :  Go  to  the  wicket-gate  yonder  over  the  plain  ; 
for  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the  way  up  which  thou  must  go ;  and 


swered  by  the  outward  calls  of  God's  grace 
and  the  visits  of  his  mercy.  One  now  stands 
at  the  door  and  knocks.  His  name  is  Se- 
cret, from  which  we  would  gather  that  this 
messenger  was  a  Divine  person  (see  Judges 
13:  18,  and  marginal  reading,  compared 
with  Isa.  9  :  6).  Here  is  Divine  grace  with 
a  Divine  hand  knocking  at  the  door  of  the 
widow's  heart — 

"  Soul,  from  thy  casement  look,  and  thou  shalt  see 
How  he  persists  to  knock  and  wait  for  thee!  " 

Secret,    being   in    possession    of  God's 
mind,  tells  what  is  already  known  in  heaven 


respecting  Christiana's  spiritual  state ;  and 
he  comes  with  such  kindly  greetings  and 
welcome  invitations  as  must  have  brought 
rich  and  abiding  comfort  and  consolation  to 
the  oppressed  spirit  of  the  penitent.  Oh- 
how  blest  are  these  tidings  of  pardon  !  these 
full  and  free  promises  of  mercy  !  Is  not  this 
"good  news"  indeed,  sweeter  than  honey 
to  our  taste,  and  soft  as  refreshing  showers 
when  they  fall  upon  the  parched  and  thirsty 
ground  ? 

This  Divine  ambassador  furthermore  pre- 
sents to  Christiana  the  "  golden  letter  "  oi 


Mrs.   Timorous  and  Mercy  visit  Christiana, 


273 


i  wish  thee  all  good  speed.  Also  I  advise  thee  that  thou  put  this  letter 
in  thy  bosom  ;  that  thou  read  therein  to  thyself  and  to  thy  children, 
until  they  have  got  it  by  heart :  for  it  is  one  of  the  songs  that  thou 
must  sing  while  thou  art  in  this  house  of  thy  pilgrimage  (Ps.  119:  54)  ; 
also  this  thou  must  deliver  in  at  the  far  gate. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  this  old  gentleman,  as  he  told  me 
this  story,  did  himself  seem  to  be  greatly  affected  therewith.  He 
moreover  proceeded  and  said  :  So  Christiana  called  her  sons  together, 
and  began  thus  to  address  herself  to  them  :  My  sons,  I  have,  as  you 
may  perceive,  been  of  late  under  much  exercise  in  my  soul  about  the 
death  of  your  father;  not  for  that  I  doubt  at  all  of  his  happiness; 
for  I  am  satisfied  now  that  he  is  well.  I  have  also  been  much 
affected  with  the  thoughts  of  mine  own  estate  and  yours ;  which  I 
verily  believe  is  by  nature  miserable.  My  carriage  also  to  your 
father  in  his  distress  is  a  great  load  to  my  conscience  ;  for  I  hardened 
both  mine  own  heart  and  yours  against  him,  and  refused  to  go  with 
him  on  pilgrimage.  The  thoughts  of  these  things  would  now  kill  me 
outright,  but  for  a  dream  which  I  had  last  night,  and  but  for  the  en- 
couragement this  stranger  hath  given  me  this  morning.  Come,  my 
children,  let  us  pack  up  and  be  gone  to  the  gate  that  leads  us  to  the 
Celestial  Country,  that  we  may  see  your  father,  and  be  with  him  and 
his  companions  in  peace,  according  to  the  laws  of  that  land. 

Then  did  her  children  burst  out  into  tears,  for  joy  that  the 
heart  of  their  mother  was  so  inclined.  So  their  visitor  bid  them 
farewell  ;  and  they  began  to  prepare  to  set  out  for  their  journey. 

But  while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two  of  the  women 
that  were  Christiana's  neighbors  came  up  to  her  house,  and  knocked 
at  her  door.  To  whom  she  said  as  before,  If  you  come  in  God's 
name,  come  in.     At  this  the  women  were  stunned  ;  for  this  kind  of 


the  King,  The  golden  counsel  of  this  letter 
was  :  On  to  thy  pilgrimage  !  tread  the  ground 
that  Christian  trod ;  enter  by  the  Gate  as 
Christian  entered  ;  walk  by  the  same  rule  ; 
mind  the  same  thing ;  sing  these  songs  to 
cheer  thee  as  thou  goest ;  keep  this  counsel 
ia  thy  bosom  ;  and  present  it  at  the  far  gate  ! 
"The  bitter  is  before  the  sweet." 

The  far  gate. — There  is  a  near  gate — the 
"  strait  gate ;"  and  there  is  a  "  far  gate  " — ■ 
away  in  the  distance — so  narrow  that  only 
true  men  can  enter  there,  and  yet  so  wide  as 
to  administer  an  "abundant  entrance  "  to 

18 


all  God's  children.  Between  the  near  gate 
and  the  far  gate  intervenes  the  path  of  the 
pilgrimage — "  from  this  world  to  that  which 
is  to  come." 

Two  of  Christiana' 5  neighbors. — Such 
holy  determinations  are  not  undertaken  with- 
out strong  opposition  from  the  world  and  the 
things  of  the  world.  As  Christian  had  to 
resist  the  entreaties  of  his  wife  and  neigh- 
bors, so  Christiana  must  now  be  strong  to 
resist  the  ill  advice  of  those  who  would  turn 
her  feet  back,  ere  she  has  well  gained  the 
threshold  of  the  way.     When  God,  by  hii 


274 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


language  they  used  not  to  hear,  or  to  perceive  A^  drop  from  the  lips 
of  Christiana,  Yet  they  came  in  ;  but,  behold,  they  found  the  good 
A^oman  preparing  to  be  gone  from  her  house. 

So  they  began  and  said,  Neighbor,  pray  what  is  your  meaning 
by  this  ? 

Christiana  answered  and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them,  whose  name 
was  Mrs.  Timorous,  I  am  preparing  for  a  journey.  (This  Timorous 
was  daughter  to  him  that  met  Christian  upon  the  hill  of  Difficulty, 
and  would  have  him  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions.) 

Tim.    For  what  journey,  I  pray  you  ? 

Chr.  Even  to  go  after  my  good  husband.-— And  with  that  she 
fell  a  weeping. 

Tim.  I  hope  not  so,  good  neighbor ;  pray,  for  your  poor  chil- 
dren's sake,  do  not  so  unwomanly  cast  away  yourself. 

Chr.  Nay,  my  children  shall  go  with  me  ;  not  one  of  them  is 
willing  to  stay  behind. 

Tim.  I  wonder  in  my  very  heart  what  or  who  has  brought  you 
into  this  mind.-* 

Chr.  O  neighbor,  knew  you  but  as  much  as  f  do,  I  doubt  not 
but  that  you  would  go  along  with  me. 

Tim.  Pr'ythee  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got,  that  so 
worketh  off  thy  mind  from  thy  friends,  and  that  tempU^th  thee  to  go 
nobody  knows  where  ? 

Then  Christiana  replied,  I  have  been  sorely  afflicted  since  my 
husband's  departure  from  me,  but  especially  since  he  went  over  the 
river.  But  that  which  troubleth  me  most  is  my  churlish  carriage  to 
him,  when  he  was  under  his  distress.  Besides,  I  am  now  as  he  was 
then  ;  nothing  will  serve  me  but  going  on  pilgrimage.  I  was  dream- 
ing last  night  that  I  saw  him.  Oh,  that  my  soul  was  with  him  I  He 
dwelleth  in  the  presence  of  the  King  of  the  country;  he  sits  and 
eats  with  him  at  his  table ;  he  has  become  a  companion  of  immortals, 
and  has  a  house  now  given  him  to  dwell  in,  to  which  the  best  palace 


awakening  Spirit,  knocks  at  the  door  of  our 
hearts,  we  may  be  sure  we  shall  hear  other 
knocks  besides — of  those  who  would  in- 
quire what  we  mean  to  do,  and  whither  we 
would  go.  One  of  these  neighbors  of  Chris- 
tiana strongly  urges  her  to  abandon  her 
projected  pilgrimage.  Her  name  is  Mrs. 
Timorous.  She  has  come  of  no  worthy 
pedigree ;   her  family  failing  being  to  turn 


people  back  from  good  designs   and  from 
heavenly  intentions. 

In  vain  does  Christiana  plead  the  inward 
convictions  of  the  soul,  which  will  not  be  set 
at  rest  by  any  other  means ;  in  vain  does 
she  plead  the  willingness  of  her  children  to 
accompany  her ;  in  vain  does  she  relate  her 
dreams,  and  the  visit  of  the  Man  of  God — 
Timorous  calls  it  "  madness,"  and  recites 


CHRISTIANA  AND  FAMILY  SET  OUT. 


276 


The  Pilgritns  Progress. 


an  earth,  if  compared,  seems  to  me  but  as  a  dunghill  (2  Cor.  5  ; 
1-4).  The  Prince  of  the  place  has  also  sent  for  me,  with  promises 
of  entertainment,  if  I  s^  ''  come  to  him  ;  his  messenger  was  here 
even  now,  and  brought  "»'  a  letter  which  invites  me  to  come. — And 
with  that  she  plucked  out  her  letter,  and  read  it,  and  said  to  them, 
What  now  will  you  say  to  this  ? 

Tim.  Oh,  the  madness  that  hath  possessed  thee  and  thy  husband 
to  run  yourselves  upon  such  difficulties  !  You  have  heard,  I  am 
sure,  what  your  husband  did  meet  with,  even  in  a  manner  at  the  first 
step  that  he  took  on  his  way,  as  our  neighbor  Obstinate  can  yet 
testify,  for  he  went  along  with  him  ;  yea,  and  Pliable  too  ;  until  they, 
like  wise  men,  were  afraid  to  go  any  further.  We  also  heard,  over 
and  above,  how  he  met  with  the  lions,  Apollyon,  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  and  many  other  things.  Nor  is  the  danger  that  he  met  with 
at  Vanity  Fair  to  be  forgotten  by  thee.  For  if  he,  though  a  man, 
was  so  hard  put  to  it,  what  canst  thou,  being  but  a  poor  woman,  do? 
Consider  also  that  these  four  sweet  babes  are  thy  children,  thy  flesh 
and  thy  bones.  Wherefore,  though  thou  shouldst  be  so  rash  as  to 
cast  away  thyself,  yet,  for  the  sake  of  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  keep 
thou  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  Tempt  me  not,  my  neighbor;  I 
have  now  a  price  put  into  my  hand  to  get  gain,  and  I  should  be  a 
fool  of  the  greatest  sort,  if  I  should  have  no  heart  to  strike  in  w^ith 
the  opportunity.  And  for  that  you  tell  me  of  all  these  troubles  that 
I  am  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way  ;  they  are  so  far  from  being  to  me 
a  discouragement,  that  they  show  I  am  in  the  right.  "The  bitter 
must  come  before  the  sweet,"  and  that  also  will  make  the  sweet  the 
sweeter.  Wherefore,  since  you  came  not  to  my  house  in  God's 
name,  as  I  said,  I  pray  you  begone,  and  do  not  disquiet  me  further. 

Then  Timorous  also  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fellow.  Come, 
neighbor  Mercy,  let  us  leave  her  in  her  own  hands,  since  she  scorns 


the  difificulties  and  hardships  of  Christian's 
own  experience,  and,  plausibly  enough,  re- 
minds her  that  he  was  a  strong  man,  but 
she  a  weak  woman.  Thus  the  tempters  of 
this  world  do  the  duty  of  the  great  Tempter, 
and  would  dissuade  even  the  true  Pilgrims 
from  their  progress  heavenward. 

Tempt  me  not. — Christiana's  convictions 
were  more  to  her  than  the  plausible  dissua- 
sives  of  her  neighbor.  She  therefore  ap- 
peals to  her  that  she  cast  no  more  tempta- 


tion in  her  way,  hindering  her  progress  to 
the  Kingdom,  and  prejudicing  her  fair  pros- 
pects of  future  glory.  "  The  bitter  before 
the  sweet !  "  Yes,  the  thorns  first,  and  then 
the  blooming  rose ;  the  rude,  rough  plough- 
share first,  and  afterwards  the  golden  har- 
vests; the  Cross,  with  all  its  weight  and  bit- 
terness, and  then  the  Crown  ! 

"  Come,  tieighbor  Mercy." — The  second  of 
these  two  neighbors,  it  now  appears,  was  one 
named  Mercy.     This  is  the  inUroduction  of 


7%e  Neighbjrs  hear  of  ChristiancLS  Departm, 


.77 


our  counsel  and  company. — But  Mercy  was  at  a  stand,  and  could 
not  so  readily  comply  with  her  neighbor;  and  that  for  a  twofold 
reason :  first,  her  bowels  yearned  over  Christiana.  So  she  said  within 
herself,  If  my  neighbor  will  needs  be  gone,  I  wili  go  a  litde  way  with 
her  and  help  her.  Secondly,  her  bowels  yearned  over  her  own  soul ; 
for  what  Christiana  had  said  had  taken  some  hold  upon  her  mind. 
Wherefore  she  said  within  herself  again,  I  will  yet  have  more  talk 
with  this  Christiana  ;  and,  if  I  find  truth  and  life  in  what  she  shall 
say,  I  myself  with  my  heart  shall  also  go  with  her.  WherefDre 
Mercy  began  thus  to  reply  to  her  neighbor  Timorous : 

Mer.  Neighbor,  I  did  indeed  come  with  you  to  see  Christiana 
this  morning,  and  since  she  is,  as  you  see,  taking  her  last  farewell  of 
the  country,  I  think  to  walk  this  sunshiny  morning  a  litde  with  her,  to 
help  her  on  the  way. — But  she  told  her  not  of  her  second  reason,  but 
kept  it  to  herself. 

Tim.  Well,  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to  go  a  fooling  too ;  but 
take  heed  in  time,  and  be  wise ;  while  we  are  out  of  danger,  we  are 
out;  but  when  we  are  in,  we  are  in.  So  Mrs.  Timorous  returned 
to  her  house,  and  Christiana  betook  herself  to  her  journey.  But 
when  Timorous  was  got  home  to  her  house,  she  sends  for  some  o/ 
her  neighbors — to  wit,  Mrs.  Bat's-eyes,  Mrs.  Inconsiderate,  Mrs. 
Light-mind,  and  Mrs.  Know-nothing,  So,  when  they  were  come  to 
her  house,  she  falls  to  telling  of  the  story  of  Christiana,  and  of  her 
intended  journey.     And  thus  she  began  her  tale: 

Neighbors,  having  but  little  to  do  this  morning,  I  went  to  give 
Christiana  a  visit;  and  when  I  came  at  the  door,  I  knocked,  as  you 
know  it  is  our  custom  ;  and  she  answered.  If  you  come  in  God's  name, 
come  in.  So  in  I  went  thinking  all  was  well ;  but,  when  I  came  in,  I 
found  her  preparing  herself  to  depart  the  town  ;  she  and  also  her 


one  of  the  main  characters  of  the  Second 
Pilgrimage,  who  by-and-by  joins  herself  to 
Christiana,  and  bears  her  company  to  the 
end.  She  had  come,  in  questionable  com- 
panionship, to  remonstrate,  but  she  remains 
to  sympathize.  Two  causes  contributed  to 
this  change  of  mind : 

(i)  Her  sympathy  for  Christiana.  The 
knowledge  of  another's  sorrow  and  affliction 
ofttimes  changes  a  spirit  of  reproof  into  a 
spirit  of  compassion.  There  is  vast  power 
in  Christian  earnestness,  and  much  moral 
force  vn  that  deep-rooted  solicitude,  arising 


from  heartfelt  conviction  of  sin,  which  dis- 
poses the  sinner  to  forsake  all  for  Christ 
This  woman  could  not  but  feel  that  there 
was  genuine  reality  in  that  self-denial,  that 
now  enables  her  neighbor  to  leave  all  and 
follow  Jesus. 

(2)  Her  anxiety  respecting  herself.  This 
feeling,  though  not  expressed  at  the  time, 
yet  abided  deep  in  the  heart  of  Mercy.  She 
must  look  to  herself,  and  see  and  judge 
whether  these  things  are  so,  as  reported  bj 
Christiana.  Self-preservation  is  said  to  be 
the  first  law  of  nature  ;  and  so,  in  spiritual 


278 


The  PilgiHms  Progress. 


children.  So  I  asked  her  what  was  her  meaning  by  that?  And  she 
told  me  in  short  that  she  was  now  of  a  mind  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as 
did  her  husband.  She  told  me  also  a  dream  that  she  had,  and  how 
the  King  of  the  country  where  her  husband  was  had  sent  her  an 
inviting  letter  to  come  thither. 

Then  said  Mrs.  Know-nothing,  And  what,  do  you  think  she 
will  go  ? 

Tim.  Aye,  go  she  will,  whatever  come  of  it ;  and  methinks  I 
know  it  by  this ;  for  that  which  was  my  great  argument  to  persuade 
her  to  stay  at  home  (to  wit,  the  troubles  she  was  like  to  meet  with  in 
the  way),  is  one  great  argument  with  her  to  put  her  forward  on  her 
journey.  For  she  told  me  in  so  many  words,  The  bitter  goes  before 
the  sweet :  yea,  and  forasmuch  as  it  doth,  it  makes  the  sweet  the 
sweeter. 

Mrs.  Bat's-eyes.  Oh,  this  blind  and  foolish  woman !  and  will  she 
not  take  warning  by  her  husband's  afflictions  ?  For  my  part,  I  see,  if 
he  were  here  again,  he  would  rest  him  content  in  a  whole  skin,  and 
never  run  so. many  hazards  for  nothing. 

Mrs.  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  Away  with  such  fantas- 
tical fools  from  the  town  ;  a  good  riddance,  for  my  part,  I  say  of  her. 
Should  she  stay  where  she  dwells,  and  retain  this  mind,  who  could 
live  quietly  by  her ;  for  she  will  either  be  dumpish  or  unneighborly, 
to  talk  of  such  matters  as  no  wise  body  can  abide.  Wherefore,  for 
my  part,  I  shall  never  be  sorry  for  her  departure  ;  let  her  go,  and  let 
her  better  come  in  her  room :  it  was  never  a  good  world  since  these 
whimsical  fools  dwelt  in  it. 

Then  Mrs.  Light-mind  added  as  followeth :  Come,  put  this  kind 
of  talk  away.  I  was  yesterday  at  Madame  Wanton's,  where  we  were 
as  merry  as  the  maids.  For  who  do  you  think  should  be  there,  but 
I  and  Mrs.  Love-the-flesh  and  three  or  four  more,  with  Mr.  Lechery, 
Mrs.  Filth,  and  some  others:  so  there  we  had  music  and  dancing,  and 
vhat  else  was  meet  to  fill  up  the  pleasure.  And  I  dare  say,  my  lady 
herself  is  an  admirable  well-bred  gentlewoman,  and  Mr.  Lechery  is 
as  pretty  a  fellow. 


things,  self-preservation  may  be  said  to  be 
the  first  law  of  grace.  Mercy  decides  to  go 
with  Christiana,  and  Mrs.  Timorous  de- 
parts on  her  way  alone.     Thus  are   fresh 


converts  drawn  to  the  cause  of  Jesus,  and 
the  world  and  Satan  spoiled  of  some  of  rhair 
former  subjects. 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  Wicket-gate. 

The  Second  Pilgrimage  is  begun,  and  more  auspiciously,  perhaps,  than  the  First. 
A  large  group  of  Pilgrims,  all  of  one  household  and  family,  now  start  for  Zion,  attended 
by  a  fair  companion,  whose  name  is  Mercy.  This  group  is  gradually  increased,  by  the 
addition  of  new  comrades  from  time  to  time ;  and  the  whole  company,  in  a  diversified 
but  yet  consistent  journey,  march  on  to  the  better  land. 

Y  this  time  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and  Mercy  went 
along  with  her.  So  as  they  went,  her  children  being 
there  also,  Christiana  began  to  discourse.  And,  Mercy, 
said  Christiana,  I  take  this  as  an  unexpected  favor,  that 
thou  shouldst  set  foot  out  of  doors  with  me  to  accompany 
me  a  little  in  my  way. 

Then  said  young  Mercy  (for  she  was  but  young).  If  I  thought  it 
would  be  to  purpose  to  go  with  you,  I  would  never  go  near  the 
town. 

Well,  Mercy,  said  Christiana,  cast  in  thy  lot  with  me ;  I  well  know 
what  will  be  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage ;  my  husband  is  where  he 
would  not  but  be  for  all  the  gold  in  the  Spanish  mines.  Nor  shalt 
thou  be  rejected,  though  thou  goest  but  upon  my  invitation.  The 
King,  who  hath  sent  for  me  and  my  children,  is  one  that  delighteth  in 
mercy.  Besides,  if  thou  wilt,  I  will  hire  thee,  and  thou  shalt  go  along 
with  me  as  my  servant.  Yet  we  will  have  all  things  in  common 
betwixt  thee  and  me  ;  only  go  along  with  me. 

Mer.    But  how  shall  I  be  ascertained  that  I  also  shall  be  enter- 


The  setting  out  of  Christiana,  accom- 
panied by  Mercy,  suggests  a  thought  or 
two  as  to  the  respective  reasons  that  urged 
them  to  undertake  their  pilgrimage. 

Christiana  is  impressed  with  the  fact 
that  she  has  been  directly  called  of  God  to 
commit  herself  to  the  way  of  holiness.  Thus 
she  interprets  her  dreams  and  visions,  and, 
above  all,  the  tidings  that  Secret  had  told 
her,  and  the  invitation  he  had  borne  for  her 
acceptance  from  the  King  of  the  heavenly 


country.  And  in  the  firm  persuasion  of  this 
call  of  God's  own  grace  and  love,  she  de- 
termines to  forsake  the  City  of  Destruction, 
and  to  seek  the  heavenly  rest,  which,  she  is 
assured,  is  even  now  enjoyed  by  Christian. 
In  the  strength  and  assurance  of  the  heav- 
enly calling,  and  with  true  earnestness  of 
purpose,  she  betakes  herself  to  her  impor- 
tant enterprise. 

Mercy  accompanies  her,  not  because  of 
any  known  call  of  God,  but  (as  she  thinks) 


(279) 


280 


The  Pilgrim* s  Progre$%. 


THEY  PASS  THE  SLOUGH  OF  DESPOND. 

tained  ?  Had  I  this  hope  but  from  one  that  can  tell,  I  would  make 
no  stick  at  all,  but  would  go,  being  helped  by  Him  that  can  help, 
though  the  way  be  never  so  tedious. 

Chr.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  shalt  do*, 
go  with  me  to  the  Wicket-gate,  and  there  I  will  further  inquire  for 
thee  ;  and,  if  there  thou  shalt  not  meet  with   encouragement,  I  will 


only  on  the  invitation  of  Christiana.  The 
maiden  does  not  yet  feel  the  movings  and 
promptings  of  the  Spirit  (so  as  to  know  that 
they  are  of  God),  but  has  been  attracted  by 
the  earnest  spirit  of  her  friend,  besides  being, 
m  some  measure,  anxious  about  the  safety 
of  her  own  soul. 


Thus  it  is  that  souls  are  brought  to  Christ 
— some  directly,  and  others  indirectly.  Some 
are  called  sovereignly,  by  the  voice  of  Jesus  ; 
while  others  are  called  instrumentally,  by 
the  service  of  godly  men.  Christ  will  have 
co-workers — "  workers  together  with  Christ 
Jesus."     Paul   came   at   the   direct  «call  of 


Christiana  invites  Mercy. 


281 


be  content  that  thou  return  to  thy  place.  I  will  also  pay  thee  for  thy 
kindness  which  thou  showest  to  me  and  my  children,  in  the  accom- 
panying of  us  in  our  way  as  thou  dost. 

Mer.  Then  will  I  go  thither,  and  will  take  what  shall  follow; 
and  the  Lord  grant  that  my  lot  may  there  fall  even  as  the  King  of 
heaven  shall  have  his  heart  upon  me. 

Christiana  was  then  glad  at  her  heart;  not  only  that  she  had  a 
companion,  but  also  for  that  she  had  prevailed  with  this  poor  maid 
to  fall  in  love  with  her  own  salvation.  So  they  went  on  together, 
and  Mercy  began  to  weep.  Then  said  Christiana,  Wherefore 
weepeth  my  sister  so  ? 

Alas  !  said  she,  who  can  but  lament,  that  shall  but  rightly  con- 
sider what  a  state  and  condition  my  poor  relations  are  in,  that  yet 
remain  in  our  sinful  town  ?  and  that  which  makes  my  grief  the  more 
heavy  is,  because  they  have  no  instructor,  nor  any  to  tell  them  what 
is  to  come. 

Chr.  Bowels  become  pilgrims  ;  and  thou  doest  for  thy  friends 
as  my  good  Christian  did  for  me  when  he  left  me;  he  mourned  for 
that  I  would  not  heed  nor  regard  him  ;  but  his  Lord  and  ours  did 
gather  up  his  tears  and  put  them  into  his  bottle  ;  and  now  both  I  and 
thou,  and  these  my  sweet  babes,  are  reaping  the  fruit  and  benefit  of 
them.  I  hope,  Mercy,  that  these  tears  of  thine  will  not  be  lost ;  for 
the  Truth  hath  said,  "They  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy;" 
and,  "  He  that  goetli  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall 
doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him" 
(Ps.  126  :  5,  6).     Then  said  Mercy: 

Let  the  most  Blessed  be  my  guide, 

Ift  be  his  blessed  will, 
Unto  his  gate,  into  his  fold, 

Up  to  his  holy  hill. 

And  let  him  never  suffer  me 

To  swerve  or  turn  aside 
From  his  free  grace  and  holy  ways, 

Whate'er  shall  me  betide. 

And  let  him  gather  them  of  mine, 

That  I  have  left  behind  ; 
Lord,  make  them  pray  they  may  be  thine, 

With  all  their  heart  and  mind. 


heaven ;  and  the  Gentiles  came  at  the 
preaching  of  Paul.  The  woman  of  Samaria 
believed  for  the  word  of  Jesus,  and  then  pro- 


ceeded to  call  her  townsmen  to  the  Messiah. 
And  so,  Christiana  has  been  directly 
called  by  the  invitation  of  the  Saviour,  and 


282 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


Now,  my  old  friend  proceeded,  and  said :  But,  when  Christiana 
came  to  the  Slough  of  Despond,  she  began  to  be  at  a  stand  :  For, 
said  she,  this  is  the  place  in  which  my  dear  husband  had  like  to 
have  been  smothered  with  mud.  She  perceived,  also,  that,  notwith- 
standing the  command  of  the  King  to  make  this  place  for  pilgrims 
good,  yet  it  was  rather  worse  than  formerly.  So  1  asked  if  that  was 
true  ?  Yes,  said  the  old  gentleman,  too  true ;  for  many  there  be 
that  pretend  to  be  the  King's  laborers,  and  say  they  are  for  mend- 
ing the  King's  highways,  that  bring  dirt  and  dung  instead  of  stones, 
and  so  mar  instead  of  mending.  Here  Christiana,  therefore,  and 
her  boys  did  make  a  stand;  but  said  Mercy,  Come,  let  us  venture; 
only  let  us  be  wary.  Then  they  looked  well  to  their  steps,  and 
made  a  shift  to  get  staggering  over.  Yet  Christiana  had  like  to 
have  been  in,  and  that  not  once  or  twice. 

Now  they  had  no  sooner  got  over,  but  they  thought  they  heard 
words  that  said  unto  them,  "Blessed  is  she  that  believeth,  for  there 
shall  be  a  performance  of  those  things  which  were  told  her  from  the 
Lord  "  (Luke  i  :  45).  Then  they  went  on  again;  and  said  Mere)- to 
Christiana,  Had  I  as  good  ground  to  hope  for  a  loving  reception  at 
the  Wicket-gate  as  you,  I  think  no  Slough  of  Despond  could  dis- 
courage me. 

Well,  said  the  other,  you  know  your  sore,  and  I  know  mine; 
and,  good  friend,  we  shall  all  have  enough  evil  before  we  come  to 
our  journey's  end.  For  it  cannot  be  imagined  that  the  people  that 
design  to  attain  such  excellent  glories  as  we  do,  and  that  are  so 


Mercy  follows  in  her  train,  bidden  to  the 
pilgrimage  by  the  voice  of  our  new  Pilgrim. 
"  How  shall  they  hear  without  a  preacher ; 
and  how  shall  he  preach  except  he  be  sent  ?" 

And  Mercy  began  to  weep. — The  thought 
that  she  has  herself  been  called  by  the  in- 
tervention of  Christiana,  makes  this  young 
beginner  grieve  over  her  relatives,  who  are 
still  hving  in  the  midst  of  Destruction,  no 
man  caring  for  their  souls.  She  is,  how- 
ever, comforted  by  the  thought  that  this 
solicitude  in  their  behalf  may  yet  bring 
forth  its  fruits.  Her  tears  and  prayers  and 
faithful  efforts  may  yet  be  made  the  means 
of  turning  her  friends  and  relatives  to  Christ. 

The  Slough  of  Despond. — This  is  repre- 
sented as  being  in  a  worse  condition  than 
when  Christian  overpassed  it ;  and  we 
know  that  it  was  then  so  deep  and  danger- 


ous as  to  have  well-nigh  stayed  his  pilgrim- 
age at  the  very  threshold  of  the  journey. 
This  miry  slough  was  continually  undergo- 
ing repair,  and  yet  was  never  thoroughly 
mended.  To  the  ministry  of  the  Word  is 
intrusted  the  reparation  of  this  deep  place 
of  conviction  ;  and  therefore  much  depends 
upon  the  materials  used  and  the  laborers 
employed.  This  is  the  place  where  con- 
science is  troubled  and  the  mind  harassed 
with  doubts  and  fears.  It  needs  a  sound 
ministry  and  true  doctrine  to  conduct  the 
soul  across  the  deep  morass,  and  also  a 
thorough  realization  of  the  promises  of  God 
in  Christ,  which  are  supplied  as  "  stepping- 
stones  "  across  the  slough.  These  promises 
Christian  had  failed  to  seek  for,  and  there- 
fore found  them  not ;  but  Christiana  and 
he-  ''ntnpany  fared  better,  for  "they  looked 


The  Pilgrims  at  the   Gate. 


283 


en  Tied  that  happiness  as  we  are,  but  that  we  shall  meet  with  what 
terirs  and  snares,  with  what  troubles  and  afflictions,  they  can  possibly- 
assault  us  with  that  hate  us. 

And  now  Mr.  Sagacity  left  me  to  dream  out  my  dream  by  my- 
self. Wherefore,  methought  I  saw  Christiana  and  Mercy  and  the 
boys  go  all  of  them  up  to  the  gate  ;  to  which  when  they  were  come> 
they  betook  themselves  to  a  short  debate,  about  how  they  must 
manage  their  calling  at  the  gate,  and  what  should  be  said  unto  him 
that  did  open  to  them.  So  it  was  concluded,  since  Christiana  was 
the  eldest,  that  she  should  knock  for  entrance,  and  that  she  should 
speak  to  him  that  did  open,  for  the  rest.  So  Christiana  began  to 
knock,  and,  as  her  poor  husband  did,  she  knocked  and  knocked 
again.  But,  instead  of  any  that  answered,  they  all  thought  that  they 
heard  as  if  a  dog  came  barking  upon  them  ;  a  dog,  and  a  great  one, 
too  ;  and  this  made  the  women  and  children  afraid.  Nor  durst  they 
for  a  while  to  knock  any  more,  for  fear  the  mastiff  should  fly  upon 
them.  Now  therefore  they  were  greatly  tumbled  up  and  down  in 
'heir  minds,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  Knock  they  durst  not.  for 
fear  of  the  dog  ;  go  back  they  durst  not,  for  fear  the  keeper  of  the 
gate  should  espy  them  as  they  so  went,  and  should  be  offended  with 
them.  At  last  they  thought  of  knocking  again,  and  knocked  more 
vehemently  than  they  did  at  first.  Then  said  the  keeper  of  the  gate. 
Who  is  there  ?  So  the  dog  left  off  to  bark,  and  he  opened  unto  them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said.  Let  not  our  Lord 
be  offended  with  his  handmaidens,  for  that  we  have  knocked  at  his 
princely  gate.  Then  said  the  keeper,  Whence  come  ye?  and  what 
is  it  that  you  would  have? 

Christiana  answered,  We  are  come  from  whence  Christian  did 
come,  and  upon  the  same  errand  as  he;  to  wit,  to  be,  if  it  shall 
please  you,   graciously  admitted,   by  this  gate,   into  the  way  that 


well  to  their  steps,"  and  so  cleared  the  dan- 
gerous pass. 

Dream  out  my  dream  by  myself. — At  this 
point  the  narrative  assumes  the  style  and 
manner  of  the  former  Allegory — the  Dreamer 
directly  dreaming  the  experiences  of  the 
Pilgrims.  His  informant  now  retires  from 
the  scene;  the  Dreamer's  thouglits  enlarge 
their  scope,  and  already  he  sees  the  Pilgrim- 
company  arrived  at  the  Wicket-gate. 

Christiana  began  to  knock. — Still  are  the 
same  conditions  recorded    on  the   Wicket- 


gate — "  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
you."  And  here  occurs  a  test  of  faith,  greater 
than  was  required  of  Christian  at  this  stage 
of  his  journey.  Their  knock  at  the  Gate 
was  answered,  not  by  the  immediate  appear- 
ance of  the  porter.  Good-will,  but  by  the 
barking  of  a  dog,  to  the  great  terror  and  dis- 
comfort of  the  timid  Pilgrims.  Here,  again 
is  one  of  the  wiles  of  the  devil  set  forth  foi 
our  admonition.  He  had  sought  to  destroy 
Christian  by  the  dispatch  of  his  fiery  darts 
irom  the  Castle;  but  Goo ^-will  did  "pull 


MERCY  AT  THE  VVICKET-GATE 


Knocking  at  the  Gate.  285 

lea  is  to  the  Celestial  Cit}^  And  I  answer,  my  Lord,  in  the  next 
place,  that  I  am  Christiana,  once  the  wife  of  Christian,  that  now  is 
gotten  above. 

With  that  the  keeper  of  the  g-ate  did  marvel,  saying,  What !  is 
she  now  become  a  pilgrim,  that  but  a  while  ago  abhorred  that  life? 
Then  she  bowed  her  head  and  said,  Yes;  and  so  are  these  my 
sweet  babes  also. 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  in,  and  said  also, 
"Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me  ; "  and  with  that  he  shut 
up  the  gate.  This  done,  he  called  to  a  trumpter  that  was  above, 
over  the  gate,  to  entertain  Christiana  with  shouting,  and  sound  of 
tr'jmpet,  for  joy.  So  he  obeyed  and  sounded,  and  filled  the  air  with 
his  melodious  notes. 

Now  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without,  trembling 
and  crying  for  fear  that  she  was  rejected.  But,  when  Christiana  had 
got  admittance  for  herself  and  her  boys,  then  she  began  to  make 
intercession  for  Mercy. 

And  she  said.  My  Lord,  I  have  a  companion  of  mine  that 
stands  yet  without,  that  is  come  hither  upon  the  same  account  as 
myself;  one  that  is  much  dejected  in  her  mind,  for  that  she  comes, 
as  she  thinks,  without  sending  for ;  whereas  I  was  sent  to  by  my 
husband's  Kinof  to  come. 

Now  Mercy  began  to  be  very  impatient,  and  each  minute  was 
as  long  to  her  as  an  hour ;  wherefore  she  prevented  Christiana 
from  a  fuller  interceding  for  her,  by  knocking  at  the  gate  herself. 
And  she  knocked  then  so  loud  that  she  made  Christiana  start. 
Then  said  the  keeper  of  the  gate.  Who  is  there  ?  And  Christiana 
said,  It  is  my  friend. 


him  in."  He  now  assails  the  feeble  women 
and  children  with  another  kind  of  alarm, 
'\nd  again  fails  of  his  purpose,  for  the  voice 
of  Good-will  doth  effectually  silence  the 
dog,  and  bereave  him  of  his  power  to  hurt 
or  harm  the  Pilgrims  of  the  "  narrow  way  " 
But  only  Christiana   and  her  children 


of  mercy,  some  gracious  token  of  accept- 
ance; but  this  long,  lingering  delay  doth 
sorely  try  and  test  her  faith.  Christiana, 
meanwhile,  prays  for  her,  in  that  power  of 
intercessory  prayer  which  God  our  Father 
vouchsafes  to  grant  to  the  members  of  his 
great  family  (James  5  :   16) 


have  entered;  poor  Mercy  did  still  stand  |  Knocking  at  the  gate  herself. — Interces- 
without.  She  had  received  the  invitation  of  sory  prayer  is,  no  doubt,  very  helpful  to  the 
her  companion,  but  she  still  needs  the  call  Christian  ;  but  we  have  not  attained  to  the 
of  God.  This  is,  again,  one  of  the  brilliant  1  full  power  of  prayer  until  we  have  taken 
touches  of  the  glowing  pencil  of  the  Dreamer.  ,  that  potent  weapon  into  our  own  hands,  and 
The  poor,  trembling  suppliant,  who  still  therewith  knocked  for  ourselves  at  the  door 
deems  herself  uncalled,  unbidden,  yet  stands  j  of  grace.  Thus  it  was  with  Mercy  ;  weary 
at  the  Gate,  hoping  for  some  kind  message  I  of  waiting,    and   anxious    for    admittance, 


286 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


So  he  opened  the  gate  and  looked  out,  but  Mercy  was  fallen 
down  without  in  a  swoon  ;  for  she  fainted,  and  was  afraid  that  no 
gate  should  be  opened  to  her. 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said,  Damsel,  I  bid  thee 
arise. 

0  Sir,    said   she,  I   am   faint;    there  is  scarce  life  left  in  me. 
But   he   answered,   that   one    once   said,    "When   my  soul   fainted' 
within   me  I    remembered  the  Lord ;    and  my  prayer  came  in  unto 
thee,   into  thine  holy  temple"    (Jonah  2:7).     Fear  not,  but  stand 
upon  thy  feet,  and  tell  me  wherefore  thou  art  come. 

Mer.  I  am  come  for  that  unto  which  I  was  never  invited,  as 
my  friend  Christiana  was.  Hers  was  from  the  King,  and  mine  was 
but  from  her.     Wherefore  I  fear  I  presume. 

Good.    Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to  this  place? 

Mer.  Yes  ;  and,  as  my  Lord  sees,  I  am  come ;  and.  If  there  is 
any  grace  and  forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I  beseech  that  thy  poor 
handmaid  may  be  a  partaker  thereof. 

Then  he  took  her  again  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  gently  in,  and 
said,  I  pray  for  all  them  that  believe  on  me,  by  what  means  soever 
they  come  unto  me.  Then  said  he  to  those  that  stood  by,  Fetch 
something,  and  give  it  to  Mercy  to  smell  on,  thereby  to  stay  her 
faintings.  So  they  fetched  her  a  bundle  of  myrrh  (Song  of  Sol. 
i:  13),  and  a  while  after  she  was  revived. 

And  now  were  Christiana  and  her  boys  and  Mercy  received  of 
the  Lord  at  the  head  of  the  way,  and  spoke  kindly  unto  by  him. 
Then  said  they  yet  further  unto  him,  We  are  sorry  for  our  sins, 
and  beg  of  our  Lord  his  pardon,  and  further  information  what  we 
must  do. 

1  grant  pardon,  said  he,  by  word  and  deed — by  word,  in  the 
promise   of  forgiveness ;    by  deed.  In   the  way  that   I  obtained  It. 


she  appeals  on  her  own  account,  by  loud 
and  repeated  knocks,  until  the  porter  open- 
eth  to  her  also.  And  then — oh,  what  a 
sight !  Behold  a  prostrate  Pilgrim,  the  victim 
of  her  own  doubts  and  fears,  alarmed  by  her 
own  loud  call  and  claim  upon  the  attention  of 
the  Master,  fainting  by  the  door  of  the  Wicket- 
gate,  which  her  own  knock  had  opened ! 
Oh,  what  strength  is  in  the  feeblest  hand, 
what  might  in  the  weakest  prayer,  what 
life  and  future  growth  in  the  tiny  seed  of 
faith,   though   it   be    no   greater   than    the 


grain  of  mustard-seed  !  Surely,  for  some 
of  the  weak-hearted  and  feeble-minded  of 
the  flock  is  this  dehneation  given.  It  is  to 
such  conscious  weakness  as  this  that  Divine 
strength  is  vouchsafed.  These  fainting  ones 
are  revived  and  refreshed  by  the  sweet- 
smelling  myrrh  and  spices  of  the  Spirit. 
"  Thy  comforts  refresh  my  soul !" 

Pardon  by  word  and  deed. — First,  by  the 
good  promise  of  God,  and  then  by  the 
effectual  work  of  Christ.  We  receive  par- 
don, first  by  the  assurance  of  the  promise 


Mercy  fears  the  Dog,  287 

Take  the  first  from  my  lips  with  a  kiss,  and  the  other  as  it  shall  be 
revealed  (Song  of  Sol.  i:  2;  John  20:  19). 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  he  spake  many  good  words  unto 
them,  whereby  they  were  greatly  gladdened.  He  also  had  them  up 
to  the  top  of  the  gate,  and  showed  then^  by  what  deed  they  were 
saved;  and  told  them  withal,  that  that  sight  they  would  have  again 
as  they  went  along  the  way,  to  their  comfort. 

So  he  left  them  a  while  in  a  summer-parlor  below,  where  they 
entered  into  a  talk  by  themselves;  and  thus  Christiana  began  —  O 
Lord,  how  glad  am  I  that  we  are  got  in  hither ! 

Mer.  So  you  well  may  ;  but  I  of  all  have  cause  to  leap  for 
joy. 

Chr.  I  thought  one  time  as  I  stood  at  the  gate,  because  I  had 
knocked  and  none  did  answer,  that  all  our  labor  had  been  lost; 
especially  when  that  ugly  cur  made  such  a  heavy  barking  against  us. 

Mer.  But  my  worst  fear  was,  after  I  saw  that  you  was  taken 
into  his  favor,  and  that  I  was  left  behind.  Now,  thought  I,  it  is 
fulfilled  which  is  written,  "Two  women  shall  be  grinding  at  the  mill; 
the  one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other  left"  (Matt.  24:  41).  I  had 
much  ado  to  forbear  crying  out,  Undone !  and  afraid  I  was  to 
knock  any  more  ;  but,  when  I  looked  up  to  what  was  written  over 
the  gate,  I  took  courage.  I  also  thought  that  I  must  either  knock 
again  or  die;  so  I  knocked,  but  I  cannot  tell  how;  for  my  spirit 
now  struggled  between  life  and  death. 

Chr.  Can  you  not  tell  how  you  knocked?  I  am  sure  your 
knocks  were  so  earnest  that  the  very  sound  of  them  made  me  start. 
I  thought  I  never  heard  such  knocking  in  all  my  life  ;  I  thought  you 
would  come  in  by  a  violent  hand,  or  take  the  kingdom  by  storm 
(Matt.  11:  12). 

Mer.  Alas,  to  be  in  my  case !  who  that  so  was  could  but  have 
done  so  ?  You  saw  that  the  door  was  shut  upon  me,  and  that  there 
was  a  most  cruel  dog  thereabout.  Who,  I  say,  that  was  so  faint- 
hearted as  I,  would  not  have  knocked  with  all  their  might?  But 
pray,  what  said  my  Lord  to  my  rudeness  ?  Was  he  not  angry  with 
me? 


and  then  by  the  sight  of  the  Cross  and  the  I   is   solved,  when  she   is  informed  that  the 
spiritual  view  of  the  Crucified.         ■  I    dog  is   Satan's  property,  kept  there,  close 

The  dog. — The   existence  of  danger   so   |   by  the   entrance-gate,  to    deter   those  that 


near  to  the  Wicket-gate  is  a  mystery  to  the 
mind  of  Mercy.     The  difficulty,  however, 


would  go  in  thereat.     And  he  would  indeed 
deter  them,  but  that  a  Stronger  than  he  de- 


288 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


THE  BOYS  EAT  OF  THE  FRUIT. 

Chr.  When  he  heard  your  lumbering  noise,  he  gave  a  wonder- 
ful innocent  smile ;  I  believe  what  you  did  pleased  him  well,  for  he 
showed  no  sign  to  the  contrary.  But  I  marvel  in  my  heart  why  he 
keeps  such  a  dog ;  had  I  known  that  before,  I  should  not  have  had 
heart  ouough  to  have  ventured  myself  in  this  manner.  But  now  we 
are  in,  we  are  in  ;  and  I  am  glad  with  all  my  heart. 

Mer.  I  will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  he  comes  down,  why 
he  keeps  such  a  filthy  cur  in  his  yard  ;  I  hope  he  will  not  take  it 
amiss. 

Do  so,  said  the  children,  and  persuade  him  to  hang  him,  for  we 
are  afraid  he  will  bite  us  when  we  go  hence. 

So  at  last  he  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy  fell  to  the 
ground  on  her  face  before  him,  and  worshipped,  and  said,  Let  my 
Lord  accept  the  sacrifice  of  praise  which  I  now  offer  unto  him  with 
"the  calves  of  my  lips." 


THE    KET-i'ER    OF    THE   GATE   FINDS    MERCY   FAINTING   OUTSIDE. 


THE   KING'S  ^.TRUMPETER. 


The  Story  of  the  Dog.  289 

So  he  said  unto  her,  Peace  be  to  thee  ;  stand  up.  But  she  con- 
tinued upon  her  face,  and  said,  "  Righteous  art  thou,  O  Lord,  when 
I  plead  with  thee;  yet  let  me  talk  with  thee  of  thy  judgments"  (Jer. 
12:1,2);  wherefore  dost  thou  keep  so  cruel  a  dog  in  thy  yard,  at 
the  sight  of  which  such  women  and  children  as  we  are  ready  to  fly 
from  the  gate  for  fear? 

He  answered  and  said.  That  dog  has  another  owner;  he  also  is 
kept  close  in  another  man's  ground,  only  my  pilgrims  hear  his  bark- 
ing ;  he  belongs  to  the  castle  which  you  see  there  at  a  distance,  but 
can  come  up  to  the  walls  of  this  place.  He  has  frighted  many  an 
honest  pilgrim  from  worse  to  better,  by  the  great  voice  of  his  roar- 
ing. Indeed,  he  that  owneth  him  doth  not  keep  him  out  of  any 
good-will  to  me  or  mine,  but  with  intent  to  keep  the  pilgrims  from 
coming  to  me,  and  that  they  may  be  afraid  to  come  and  knock  at 
this  gate  for  entrance.  Sometimes  also  he  has  broken  out,  and  has 
worried  some  that  I  loved  ;  but  I  take  all  at  present  patiently.  I 
also  give  my  pilgrims  timely  help,  so  that  they  are  not  delivered  to 
his  power,  to  do  with  them  what  his  doggish  nature  would  prompt 
him  to.  But  what!  my  purchased  one,  I  trow,  hadst  thou  known 
never  so  much  beforehand,  thou  wouldest  not  have  been  afraid  of  a 
dog.  The  beggars  that  go  from  door  to  door  will,  rather  than  lose 
a  supposed  alms,  run  the  hazard  of  the  bawling,  barking,  and  biting 
too,  of  a  dog  ;  and  shall  a  dog,  a  dog  in  another  man's  yard,  a  dog 
whose  barking  I  turn  to  the  profit  of  pilgrims,  keep  any  one  from 
coming  to  me  ?  I  deliver  them  from  the  lions,  and  "  my  darling  from 
the  power  of  the  dog"  {Ps.  22:  20,  21). 

Then  said  Mercy,  I  confess  my  ignorance  ;  I  spake  what  I 
understood  not ;  I  acknowledge  that  thou  dost  all  things  well. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of  their  journey,  and  to  inquire 
after  the  way.  So  he  fed  them,  and  washed  their  feet,  and  "  set 
them  in  the  way  of  his  steps,"  according  as  he  had  dealt  with  her 
husband  before. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  walked  on  their  way,  and  had 
the  weather  very  comfortable  to  them. 


livers    His   servants   from    such    fears    and 
alarms  of  the  pilgrimage. 

The  weather  was  comfortable. — This  part 
of  the  road  is  pleasant;  their  lines  have 
fallen  imtothem  in  a  fair  place.  The  relief  is 
great,  the  promise  of  pardon  is  sure,  and 
has  already  insured  to  »hem  the  realization 

19 


of  the  peace  that  pardon  brings.  They  now 
sing  the  songs  of  their  pilgrimage  ;  and 
from  this  fair  beginning  they  are  enabled  to 
anticipate  what  shall  be  the  end  of  their 
journey. 

Yet,  not  altogether  without  danger  is  this 
path  of  the  Wicket-gate.     The  trees  of  the 


290 


The  Pilgri7}i's  Progress, 


Then  Christiana  began  to  sing-,  saying — 

Bless'd  be  the  day  that  I  began 

A  pilgrim  for  to  be  ; 
And  blessed  also  be  that  man 
That  thereto  moved  me. 


'Tis  true,  'twas  long  ere  I  began 
To  seek  to  live  forever ; 

But  now  I  run  fast  as  I  can : 
'Tis  better  late  than  never. 


Our  tears  to  joy,  our  fears  to  faith, 

Are  turned,  as  we  see  : 
That  our  beginning  (as  one  saith) 

Shows  what  our  end  will  be. 

Now  there  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  that  fenced  in  the  way 
up  which  Christiana  and  her  companions  were  to  go,  a  garden,  and 
that  garden  belonged  to  him  whose  was  that  barking  dog  of  whom 
mention  was  made  before.  And  some  of  the  fruit  trees  that  grew  in 
that  garden  shot  their  branches  over  the  wall ;  and  being  mellow,  they 
that  found  them  did  gather  them  up  and  eat  of  them  to  their  hurt. 
So'Christiana's  boys  (as  boys  are  apt  to  do),  being  pleased  with  the 
trees,  and  with  the  fruit  that  hung  thereon,  did  pick  them,  and  began 
to  eat.  Their  mother  did  also  chide  them  for  so  doing,  but  still  the 
boys  went  on. 

Well,  said  she,  my  sons,  you  transgress,  for  that  fruit  is  none  of 
ours;  but  she  did  not  know  that  it  belonged  to  the  enemy;  I'll 
warrant  you,  if  she  had,  she  would  have  been  ready  to  die  for  fear. 
But  that  passed,  and  they  went  on  their  way.  Now,  by  that  they 
were  gone  about  two  bow-shots  from  the  place  that  led  them  into  the 


adjoining  garden  shot  their  branches  over 
the  wall  of  the  narrow  way,  and  presented 
their  mellow  and  luscious  fruits  full  in  view 
of  Christiana's  children.  This  was  their 
temptation  ;  and  they  plucked  them,  and 
did  eat. 

Christiana's  conscience  is  somewhat 
troubled  by  her  children's  conduct,  and  she 
reproves  them,  on  the  score  that  these  fruits 
did  not  belong  to  them.  Had  the  good 
woman  known  more,  had  she  traced  those 
fruits  to  the  root  that  bore  them,  her  voice 
had  been  lifted  up  more  loud  and  more  com- 
manding, that  her  children  should  straight- 


way forbear  to  eat.  These  fruits  were  in  the 
narrow-way,  but  they  formed  no  part  of  the 
King's  possessions ;  the  root  of  that  tree 
grew  in  the  garden  of  the  Tempter,  who 
threw  these  tempting  bnits  over  the  very 
walls  of  salvation.  These  are  the  seductive 
pleasures  and  gayeties  of  life,  those  "  youth- 
ful lusts"  which  war  against  the  soul. 

Two  very  ill-favored  ones. — This  danger 
tests  the  elder  Pilgrims.  Alone  upon  the 
highway,  their  virtue  and  innocence  are  as- 
sailed by  those  who  would  plunge  them 
into  sin  and  shame,  and  so  recover  them  to 
ihe   power   of  Satan.     But  Virtue,  thoMgk 


A  New  Danger,  291 

■way,  they  espied  two  very  ill-favored  ones  coming  down  apace  to  meet 
them.  With  that  Christiana  and  Mercy  her  friend  covered  themselves 
with  their  veils,  and  so  kept  on  their  journey  ;  the  children  also  went 
on  before  ;  so  at  last  they  met  together.  Then  they  that  came  down 
to  meet  them  came  just  up  to  the  women,  as  if  they  would  embrace 
them  ;  but  Christiana  said,  Stand  back,  or  go  peaceably  as  you  should. 
Yet  these  two,  as  men  that  are  deaf,  regarded  not  Christiana's  words, 
but  began  to  lay  hands  upon  them ;  at  that  Christiana,  waxing  very 
wroth,  spurned  at  them  with  her  feet.  Mercy  also,  as  well  as  she 
could,  did  what  she  could  to  shift  them.  Christiana  again  said  to 
them.  Stand  back,  and  be  gone,  for  we  have  no  money  to  lose,  being 
pilgrims,  as  you  see,  and  such  too  as  live  upon  the  charity  of  our 
friends. 

Then  said  one  of  the  two  men.  We  make  no  assault  upon  you  for 
money,  but  are  come  to  tell  you,  that  if  you  will  but  grant  one  small 
request  which  we  shall  ask,  we  will  make  women  of  you  forever. 

Now  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should  mean,  made  answer 
again,  We  will  neither  hear,  nor  regard,  nor  yield  to  what  you  shaU 
ask.  We  are  in  haste  and  cannot  stay;  our  business  is  business  oi 
life  and  death.  So  again  she  and  her  companion  made  a  fresh  essay 
to  go  past  them ;  but  they  letted  them  in  their  way. 

And  they  said,  We  intend  no  hurt  to  your  lives  ;  'tis  another 
thing  we  would  have. 

Aye,  quote  Christiana,  you  would  have  us  body  and  soul,  for  I 
know  'tis  for  that  you  are  come  ;  but  we  will  die  rather  upon  the  spot, 
than  suffer  ourselves  to  be  brought  into  such  snares  as  shall  hazard 
our  well-being  hereafter.  And  with  that  they  both  shrieked  out,  and 
cried  Murder!  Murder  !  and  so  put  themselves  under  those  laws  that 
are  provided  for  the  protection  of  women  (Deut.  22  :  25-27).  Butthe 
men  still  made  their  approach  upon  them,  with  designs  to  prevail 
against  them.     They  therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now  they  being,  as  I  have  said,  not  far  from  the  gate  in  at  which 
they  came,  their  voice  was  heard  from  whence  they  were,  thither  ; 


unprotected,  is  her  own  best  protector.  She 
first  drops  the  veil  of  modesty  over  her  face, 
and  then  resists  with  that  native  power  that 
indignantly  repulses  the  first  approach  of 
audacious  violence  and  continues  to  hold 
Uer  own,  while  yet  she  cries  aloud  for  help. 
Their  voice  was  heard. — Prayer  calls  to 
Cod  for  aid,  and  is  always  arreptable  in  his 


sight,  whether  it  be  the  silent  supplication, 
offered  during  the  "still  hour"  of  com- 
munion with  his  throne,  or  the  sudden  out- 
cry of  alarm,  raised  in  the  face  of  sudden 
danger.  Never  yet  did  an  afflicted  pilgrim 
cry  unto  the  Lord,  but  some  one  of  the  army 
of  relief  has  been  despatched  to  the  scene  of 
danger,  to  repulse  the  assailants  and  to  dc 


msmnmn;,:  n„».wMWJWg^ 


292 


7  he  Pilgrim^    Rescue. 


29a 


wherefore  some  of  the  hoase  came  out,  and,  knowing  that  it  was 
Christiana's  tongue,  they  made  haste  to  her  reHef.  But  by  that  they 
were  got  within  sight  of  them,  the  women  were  in  a  very  great  scuffle  ; 
the  children  also  stood  crying  by.  Then  did  he  that  came  in  for  their 
relief  call  out  to  the  ruffians,  saying,  What  is  that  thing  you  do? 
Would  you  make  my  Lord's  people  to  transgress?  He  also  at- 
tempted to  take  them ;  but  they  did  make  their  escape  over  the  wall 
into  the  garden  of  the  man  to  whom  the  great  dog  belonged ;  so  the  dog 
became  their  protector.  This  Reliever  then  came  up  to  the  women, 
and  asked  them,  how  they  did.  So  they  answered,  We  thank  thy 
Prince,  pretty  well ;  only  we  have  been  somewhat  affrighted ;  we 
thank  thee,  also,  that  thou  camest  in  to  our  help,  for  otherwise  we  had 
been  overcome. 

So,  after  a  few  more  words,  this  Reliever  said  as  foUoweth :  I 
marvelled  much,  when  you  were  entertained  at  the  gate  above,  seeing 
ye  knew  that  ye  were  but  weak  women,  that  you  petitioned  not  the 
Lord  for  a  conductor  :  then  might  you  have  avoided  these  troubles 
and  dangers  ;  for  he  would  have  granted  you  one. 

Alas !  said  Christiana,  we  were  so  taken  with  our  present  bless- 
ing, that  dangers  to  come  were  forgotten  by  us ;  besides,  who  could 
have  thought  that  so  near  the  King's  palace  there  could  have  lurked 
such  naughty  ones  ?  Indeed,  it  had  been  well  for  us  had  we  asked  our 
Lord  for  one ;  but,  since  our  Lord  knew  it  would  be  for  our  profit,  I 
wonder  he  sent  not  one  along  with  us. 

Rel.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not  asked  for, 
lest  by  so  doing  they  become  of  little  esteem  ;  but  when  the  want  of 
a  thing  is  felt,  it  then  comes  under,  in  the  eyes  of  him  that  feels  it, 
chat  estimate  that  properly  is  its  due  ;  and  so,  consequently,  it  will  be 
thereafter  used.  Had  my  Lord  granted  you  a  conductor,  you  would 
not,  either,  so  have  bewailed  that  oversight  of  yours  in  not  asking  for 
one  ;  as  now  you  have  occasion  to  do.  So  all  things  work  for  good, 
and  tend  to  make  you  more  wary. 


liver  the  suppliant.     So  was  it  now,  in  the 
presence  of  emergency. 

This  Reliever. — The  conversation  of  this 
man  discloses  a  hidden  providence  lurking 
beneath  this  danger.  The  women  had  for- 
gotten their  own  weakness,  and  had  omitted 
to  ask  for  one  stronger  than  they,  to  conduct 
them  through  the  severe  discipline  of  the 
pilgrimage.     The  blessings  and  favors  they 


had  received  at  the  Wicket -gate  seem  to  have 
filled  their  firmament  with  sunshine;  and 
so,  they  prepared  not  for  the  storms  and 
tempests  of  the  way.  Accordingly,  they 
must  be  practically  taught  how  great  danger 
they  incurred  by  this  neglect ;  and  while  they 
are  yet  near  to  the  gate,  and  within  call  of 
ready  help,  Providence  permits  this  sudden 
peril  to  present  itself,  and,  in  the  relief  sub- 


'204  The  Pilgrmi  s  Progress. 

Chr.  Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord,  and  confess  our  folly, 
and  ask  one  ? 

Rel.  Your  confession  of  your  folly  I  will  present  him  with:  to 
go  back  again  you  need  not ;  for  in  all  places  where  you  shall  come 
you  shall  find  no  want  at  all ;  for  in  every  one  of  my  Lord's  lodgings, 
which  he  has  prepared  for  the  reception  of  his  pilgrims,  there  is  suf- 
ficient to  furnish  them  against  all  attempts  whatsoever.  But,  as  I 
said,  he  "will  be  inquired  of  by  them,  to  do  it  for  them"  (Ezek.  36:  2^'])\ 
and  'tis  a  poor  thing  that  is  not  worth  asking  for.  When  he  had 
thus  said,  he  went  back  to  his  place,  and  the  Pilgrims  went  on 
their  way. 

Then  said  Mercy,  What  a  sudden  blank  is  here !  I  made 
account  we  had  been  past  all  danger,  and  that  we  should  never  see 
sorrow  more. 

Thy  innocence,  my  sister,  said  Christiana  to  Mercy,  may  excuse 
thee  much ;  but,  as  for  me,  my  fault  is  so  much  the  greater  for  that 
I  saw  the  danger  before  I  came  out  of  the  doors,  and  yet  did  not 
provide  for  it  when  provision  might  have  been  had.  I  am  much  to 
be  blamed. 

Then  said  Mercy,  How  knew  you  this  before  you  came  from 
home  ?     Pray,  open  to  me  this  riddle. 

Chr.  Why,  I  will  tell  you.  Before  I  set  foot  out  of  doors,  one 
night,  as  I  lay  in  my  bed,  I  had  a  dream  about  this ;  for  methought  I 
saw  two  men,  as  like  these  as  ever  any  in  the  world  could  look,  stand 
;it  my  bed's  feet,  plotting  how  they  might  prevent  my  salvation,  I 
will  tell  you  their  very  words  :  they  said  (it  was  when  I  was  in  my 
troubles).  What  shall  we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out, 
waking  and  sleeping,  for  forgiveness  ;  if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as 
she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her  husband.  This, 
you  know,  might  have  made  me  take  heed,  and  have  provided  when 
provision  might  have  been  had. 

Well,  said  Mercy,  as  by  this  neglect  we  have  an  occasion  minis- 
tered unto  us  to  behold  our  own  imperfections,  so  our  Lord  has  taken 
occasion  thereby  to  make  manifest  the  riches  of  his  grace ;  for  he,  as 
we  see,  has  followed  us  with  unasked  kindness,  and  has  delivered 
us  from  their  hands  that  were  stronger  than  we,  of  his  mere  good 
pleasure. 

sequently  vouchsafed,  reminds  them  of  the  It  is  in  vain  to  excuse  ourselves  by  saying 

oversight,  and  uryes  them  instantly  to  repair       that  if  it  were  necessary  to  have  such  help, 
the  mistake  '  God  would  have  granted  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 


The  Interpreter's  House. 

Once,  again,  we  have  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  Interpreter's  House,  and,  under 
the  guidance  of  the  good  Interpreter,  we  are  about  to  be  conducted  through  the  "  Sig- 
nificant Rooms  "  of  this  fair  house,  built  for  the  refreshment  and  instruction  of  pilgrims.  Here 
we  also  read  other  lucid  representations — of  patience  under  sufferings  ;  the  discharge  of  our 
rightful  duty  in  our  appointed  place ;  the  worthlessness  of  mere  profession  without  fruits 
answe -able  thereto,  and  the  inconsistency  of  carnal  appetites  with  the  fair-seeming  exter- 
nals of  religion.  These  lively  emblems  are  further  strengthened  and  supported  by  the 
weighty  aphorisms  enunciated  by  the  wisdom  of  the  Interpreter,  and  are  followed  up  by 
the  experience  of  the  Pilgrims,  as  related  by  them  to  the  good  man  of  the  house,  who  sends 
them  forth  upon  their  way  rejoicing,  under  the  protection  of  the  brave  champion  of  the  road, 
whose  name  is  Great-heart. 

ijHUS  now,  when  they  had  talked  away  a  httle  more  time, 
they  drew  near  to  a  house  which  stood  in  the  way  ;  which 
house  was  built  for  the  relief  of  pilgrims,  as  you  will  find 
more  fully  related  in  the  first  part  of  these  records  of  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress.  So  they  drew  on  towards  the  house 
(the  house  of  the  Interpreter)  ;  and,  when  they  came  to  the  door,  they 
Aeard  a  great  talk  in  the  house  ;  then  they  gave  ear,  and  heard,  as 
they  thought,  Christiana  mentioned  by  name.  For  you  must  know, 
that  the^re  went  along,  even  before  her,  a  talk  of  her  and  her  children 
going  on  pilgrimage.  And  this  was  the  more  pleasing  to  them  be- 
cause they  had  heard  that  she  was  Christian's  wife,  that  woman  who  was 
some  time  ago  so  unwilling  to  hear  of  going  on  pilgrimage.  Thus, 
therefore,  they  stood  still,  and  heard  the  good  people  within  com- 
mending her,  who  they  little  thought  stood  at  the  door.  At  last 
Christiana  knocked,  as  she  had  done  at  the  gate  before.     Now,  when 


For  the  relief  of  Pilgrims. — To  Chris- 
tiana and  her  companions  the  Interpre- 
ter's house  was  a  "  relief"  in  a  double  sense. 
(i)  They  had  been  alarmed  and  affrighted 
by  the  "  ill-favored  men  "  who  had  encoun- 
tered them  on  the  way  ;  and  now  they  enter 
this  house  of  rest,  for  the  purpose  of  peaceful 
retirement  from  the  dangers  of  the  outer  road. 
l2)  It  was  also  for  their  relief,  inasmuch  as 


they  there  received  those  abiding  helps,  and 
gifts,  and  graces,  and  tokens  of  acceptance, 
which  they  so  consistently  retained  even  to 
their  journey's  end. 

Christiana  mentiotied  by  name. — The  tid- 
ings of  this  woman's  conversion  had  been 
flashed  on  lightning  wings  all  along  the  route 
of  the  pilgrimage,  far  in  advance  of  her  prog- 
ress in  the  way.     "  There  is  joy  in  the  pres- 


(295) 


296 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


she  had  knocked,  there  came  to  the  door  a  young  damsel,  and  opened 
the  door,  and  looked,  and,  behold,  two  women  were  there. 

Then  said  the  damsel  to  them,  With  whom  would  you  speak  in 
this  place  ? 

Christiana  answered,  We  understand  that  this  is  a  privileged  place 
for  those  that  are  become  pilgrims,  and  we  now  at  this  door  are  such ; 
wherefore  we  pray  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  that  for  which  we  at 
this  time  are  come;  for  the  day,  as  thou  seest,  is  very  far  spent,  and 
we  are  loath  to-night  to  go  any  further. 

Dam.  Pray,  what  may  I  call  your  name,  that  I  may  tell  it  to  my 
Lord  within  .>* 

Chr.  My  name  is  Christiana  ;  I  was  the  wife  of  that  pilgrim  that 
some  years  ago  did  travel  this  way ;  and  these  be  his  four  children. 
This  maiden  also  is  my  companion,  and  is  going  on  pilgrimage  too. 

Then  Innocent  ran  in  (for  that  was  her  name),  and  said  to  those 
within.  Can  you  think  who  is  at  the  door  ?  There  is  Christiana,  and 
her  children,  and  her  companion,  all  waiting  for  entertainment  here  ! 
Then  they  leaped  for  joy,  and  went  and  told  their  Master.  So  he 
came  to  the  door,  and  looking  upon  her,  he  said.  Art  thou  that  Chris- 
tiana whom  Christian,  the  good  man,  left  behind  him,  when  he  be 
took  himself  to  a  pilgrim's  life  ? 

Chr.  I  am  that  woman  that  was  so  hard-hearted  as  to  slight  m^ 
husband's  troubles,  and  that  left  him  to  go  on  his  journey  alone;  and 
these  are  his  four  children  ;  but  now  I  also  am  come,  for  I  am  con- 
vinced that  no  way  is  right  but  this. 

Int.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  which  was  written  of  the  man  that  said 
to  his  son,  "  Go  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard  ;  and  he  said  to  his  father, 
I  will  not;  but  afterward  he  repented,  and  went"  (Matt  21:  28,  29). 

Then  said  Christiana,  So  be  it:  Amen.     God  make  it  a  true  sa; 
ing  upon  me,  and  grant  that  I  may  be  found  at  the  last  "of  him  in 
peace,  without  spot  and  blameless." 

Int.  But  why  standest  thou  thus  at  the  door  ?  Come  in,  thou 
daughter  of  Abraham  ;  we  were  talking  of  thee  but  now  ;  for  tidings 


ence  of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner 
that  repenteth."  They  that  turn  to  God  are 
spoken  of  by  angels,  and  rejoiced  over, 
too,  as  these  heavenly  messengers  await  the 
bidding  of  their  Lord  to  go  forth  as  minister- 
ing spirits,  to  minister  to  them  that  are  the 
heirs  of  salvation  (Heb.  i  :  14).  Her  past 
unbelief  is  indeed  well  known,  and  how 


she  sought  to  hinder  Christian  in  the  way  ; 
but  now  these  things  should  be  no  more  re- 
membered against  her ;  and  rather  is  fulfilled 
in  her  the  parable  of  the  once  disobedient 
son,  who  ignored  his  father's  counsel,  re- 
fused to  obey  his  will,  promised  nothing  but 
disobedience,  and  yet  "  afterwards  repented 
and  went"  (Matt.  z\  -.  28,  29). 


Christiana  in  the  Significant  Rooms, 


297 


have  come  to  us  before,  how  thou  art  become  a  pilgrim.  Come,  chiL 
dren,  come  in  ;  Come,  maiden,  come.  So  he  had  them  all  into  the 
house. 

So  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  to  sit  down  and  rest 
them  ;  the  which  when  they  had  done,  those  that  attended  upon  the 
pilgrims  in  the  house  came  into  the  room  to  see  them.  And  one 
smiled,  and  another  smiled,  and  they  all  smiled,  for  joy  that  Christiana 
was  become  a  pilgrim.  They  also  looked  upon  the  boys;  they  stroked 
them  over  their  faces  with  the  hand,  in  token  of  their  kind  reception 
of  them ;  they  also  carried  it  lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid  them  all  wel- 
come into  their  Master's  house. 

After  a  while,  because  supper  was  not  ready,  the  Interpreter 
took  them  into  his  Sig7iificant  Rooms,  and  showed  them  what  Chris- 
tiana's husband  had  seen  some  time  before.  Here,  therefore,  they 
saw  the  Man  in  the  Cage,  the  Man  and  his  Dream,  the  Man  that 
cut  his  way  through  his  enemies,  and  the  picture  of  the  biggest  of 
all,  together  with  the  rest  of  those  things  that  were  then  so  profit- 
able to  Christian. 

This  done,  and  after  those  things  hard  been  somewhat  digested 
by  Christiana  and  her  company,  the  Interpreter  takes  them  apart 
again,  and  has  them  first  into  a  room  where  was  a  man  that  could 
look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a  muck-rake  in  his  hand ;  there 
stood  also  one  over  his  head  with  a  celestial  crown  in  his  hand,  and 
proffered  him  that  crown  for  his  muck-rake  ;  but  the  man  did  nei- 
ther look  up  nor  regard,  but  raked  to  himself  the  straws,  the  small 
sticks,  and  the  dust  of  the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  I  persuade  myself  that  I  know  somewhat 
the  meaning  of  this  ;  for  this  is  the  figure  of  a  man  of  this  world  ;  is 
it  not,  good  sir  ? 

Thou  hast  said  right,  said  he  ;  and  his  muck-rake  doth  show  his 
carnal  mind.  And  whereas  thou  seest  him  rather  give  heed  to  rake 
up  straws  and  sticks  and  the  dust  of  the  floor,  than  to  what  He  says 
that  calls  to  him  from  above,  with  the  celestial  crown  in  his  hand  ;  it 


His  Significant  Rooms. — The%e  are  the 
chambers  of  imagery,  through  which  the 
Interpreter  had  conducted  Christian. 
And  "  significant  "  they  are — of  the  ministry 
of  the  Word,  of  the  power  of  indwelHng  sin, 
of  the  peace  of  Patience,  and  of  the  folly  of 
blind  Passion  ;  significant,  too,  of  the  sus- 
taining power  of  Divine  grace,  and  the  unc- 


tion of  the  Spirit ;  significant  of  the  good 
fight  of  faith ;  significant,  also,  of  dark  de- 
spair and  of  the  scenes  of  final  judgment. 

77^1?  muck-rake. — This  is  the  first  of  the 
illustrations  peculiar  to  Christiana's  visit. 
The  crown  celestial  is  proffered  in  exchange 
for  that  implement  of  Mammon,  that  muck- 
rake of  worldliness,  and  the  offer  is  not  only 


298 


The  Piigri?ns  Progress. 


is  to  show  that  heaven  is  but  as  a  fable  to  some,  and  that  things  here 
are  counted  the  only  things  substantial.  Now,  whereas  it  was  also 
showed  thee  that  the  man  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  it  is  to 
let  thee  know  that  earthly  things,  when  they  are  with  power  upon 
men's  minds,  quite  carry  their  hearts  away  from  God, 

Then  said  Christiana,  Oh,  deliver  me  from  this  muck-rake  ! 

That  prayer,  said  the  Interpreter,  has  lain  by  till  it  is  almost 
rusty,  "Give  me  not  riches"  (Prov.  30:  8)  is  scarce  the  prayer  of 
one  of  ten  thousand.  Straws  and  sticks  and  dust  with  most  are  the 
thinofs  now  looked  after. 

With  that  Mercy  and  Christiana  wept,  and  said,  It  is,  alas !  too 
true. 

When  the  Interpreter  had  showed  them  this,  he  had  them  into 
the  very  best  room  in  the  house  (a  very  brave  room  it  was)  :  so  he 
bid  them  look  round  about,  and  see  if  they  could  find  anything  pro- 
fitable there.  Then  they  looked  round  and  round;  for  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  very  great  spider  on  the  wall  ;  and  that  they 
overlooked. 

Then  said  Mercy,  Sir,  I  see  nothing ;  but  Christiana  held  her 
peace. 

But  said  the  Interpreter,  Look  again.  She  therefore  looked 
again  and  said,  Here  is  not  anything  but  an  ugly  spider,  who  hangs 
by  her  hands  upon  the  wall.  Then  said  he,  Is  there  but  one  spider 
in  all  this  spacious  room  ?  Then  the  water  stood  in  Christiana's  eyes, 
for  she  was  a  woman  quick  of  apprehension  ;  and  she  said,  Yea, 
Lord,  there  are  more  here  than  one  ;  yea,  and  spiders  whose  venom 
is  far  more  destructive  than  that  which  is  in  her.  The  Interpreter 
then  looked  pleasantly  on  her,  and  said,  Thou  hast  said  the  truth. 
This  made  Mercy  to  blush,  and  the  boys  to  cover  their  faces  ;  for 
they  all  began  now  to  understand  the  riddle. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  "The  spider  taketh  hold  with 
her  hands"  (as  you  see),  "and  is  in  kings'  palaces."  And  wherefore 
is  this  recorded,  but  to  show  you  that,  how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin 


unheeded,  but  is  not  even  recognized  !  Tlius 
does  the  service  of  Mammon  blind  the  eyes, 
and  turn  away  the  attention  of  the  heart 
from  the  bright  and  glorious  things  of  heaven. 
Aye,  while  we  are,  with  an  earthly  mind, 
gathering  the  waifs  and  strays  and  worth- 
less things  that  are  borne  on  every  breeze, 
all  heaven  is  passing  over  us,  and  away  from 


us,  and  beyond  our  reach,  with  its  crowns 
and  joys  and  its  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

The  spider. — The  meaning  of  this  emblem 
does  not  at  once  occur  to  the  minds  of  the 
Pilgrims  ;  nor  would  it  be  likely  to  discover 
itself  to  our  minds  without  the  aid  of  inter- 
pretation. True  faith  is  an  active  power. 
It   climbs,  notwithstanding^  the  known   in- 


300 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


soever  you  be,  yet  you  may,  by  the  hand  of  faith,  lay  hold  of  and 
dwell  in  the  best  room  that  belongs  to  the  King's  house  above. 

I  thought,  said  Christiana,  of  somediing  of  this  ;  but  I  could  not 
imagine  it  all.  I  thought  that  we  were  like  spiders,  and  that  we 
looked  like  ugly  creatures,  in  what  fine  rooms  soever  we  were  ;  but 
that  by  this  spider,  this  venomous  and  ill-favored  creature,  we  were 
to  learn  how  to  act  faith,  that  came  not  into  my  thoughts  ;  and  yet 
she  had  taken  hold  with  her  hands,  and,  as  I  see,  dwelleth  in  the 
best  room  in  the  house.     God  has  made  nothincr  in  vain. 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad  ;  but  the  water  stood  in  their 
eyes  ;  yet  they  looked  upon  one  another,  and  also  bowed  before  the 
Interpreter, 

He  had  them  then  into  another  room,  where  were  a  hen  and 
chickens,  and  bid  them  observe  a  while.  So  one  of  the  chickens 
went  to  the  trough  to  drink,  and  every  time  she  drank  she  lifted  up 
her  head  and  her  eyes  towards  heaven.  See,  said  he,  what  this  little 
chick  doth,  and  learn  of  her  to  acknowledge  whence  your  mercies 
come,  by  receiving  them  with  looking  up.  Yet  again,  said  he, 
observe  and  look ;  so  they  gave  heed,  and  perceived  that  the  hen 
did  walk  in  a  fourfold  method  towards  her  chickens,  (i)  She  had  a 
commo7i  call,  and  that  she  hath  all  day  long.  (2)  She  had  a  special 
call,  and  that  she  had  but  sometimes.  (3)  She  had  a  broodi?tg  note. 
And  (4)  she  had  an  ouioy  (Matt.  23  :   t^'j). 

Now.,  said  he,  compare  this  hen  to  your  King,  and  these  chickens 
to  his  obedient  ones.  For,  answerable  to  her,  he  himself  hath  hii 
methods  which  he  walketh  in  towards  his  people  ;  by  his  coniinon  call 
he  gives  nothing ;  by  his  special  call  he  always  has  something  to 
give  ;  he  has  also  a  brooding  voice  for  them  that  are  under  his  wing; 
and  he  has  an  outcry^  to  give  the  alarm  when  he  seeth  the  enemy 
come.  I  choose,  my  darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the  room  where  such 
things  are,  because  )  ou  are  women,  and  they  are  easy  for  you. 


firmity  of  the  flesh,  and  is  not  deterred,  even 
by  the  felt  venom  of  sin,  from  laying  hold 
upon  Christ,  and  seeking  and  finding  an 
entrance  into  the  very  best  room  of  his 
household. 

The  hen  and  chickens. — This  is  an  em- 
blem that  has  been  honored  by  the  Master's 
own  selection,  in  his  Divine  instructions  to 
the  people  (Matt.  23  :  37).  The  great  point 
of  the  illustation  here  is  in  the  allusion  to 


call  " — universal  offer  of  the  Gospel ;  (2)  the 
"special  call" — the  moving  influence  of 
the  Spirit;  (3)  the  "brooding  note" — the 
love  and  care  of  Jesus  ;  and  (4)  the  "  outcry" 
— the  alarm  or  admonition  by  which,  in 
seasons  of  danger,  we  are  recalled  to  the 
side  of  Jesus. 

Let  us  see  some  more. — The  Sheep  led  to 
the  slaughter,  and  so  patiently  suffering  its 
death,  is  an  emblem  of  that  patience  under 


the    fourfold     "call" — (i)    the    "common  j  sufferings  which  it  becomes  all  true  children 


Interpreter  discourses  with  the  Pilgrims. 


301 


And,  sir,  said  Christiana,  pray  let  us  see  some  more.  So  he 
had  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where  was  the  butcher  kilHng  a 
sheep  ;  and  behold  the  sheep  was  quiet,  and  took  her  death  patiently. 
Then  said  the  Interpreter,  You  must  learn  of  this  sheep  to  suffer, 
and  to  put  up  with  wrongs  without  murmurings  and  complaints. 
Behold  how  quietly  she  takes  her  death,  and,  without  objecting,  she 
suffereth  her  skin  to  be  be  pulled  over  her  ears.  Your  King  doth 
call  you  his  sheep. 

After  this  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was  great  variety 
of  flowers  ;  and  he  said,  Do  you  see  all  these  ?  So  Christiana  said, 
Yes.  Then  he  said  again.  Behold  the  flowers  are  diverse  in  stature, 
in  quality,  and  color,  and  smell,  and  virtue  ;  and  some  are  better 
than  others  ;  also,  where  the  gardener  hath  set  them,  there  they 
stand,  and  quarrel  not  with  one  another. 

Again  he  had  them  into  his  field,  which  he  had  sown  with  wheat 
and  corn  ;  but,  when  they  beheld,  the  tops  of  all  were  cut  off,  only 
the  straw  remained.  He  said  again,  this  ground  was  dunged,  and 
ploughed,  and  sowed  ;  but  what  shall  we  do  with  the  crop  ?  Then 
said  Christiana,  Burn  some,  and  make  muck  of  the  rest.  Then  said 
the  Interpreter  again,  Fruit,  you  see,  is  that  thing  you  look  for,  and 
for  want  of  that  you  condemn  it  to  the  fire,  and  to  be  trodden  under 
foot  of  men  ;  beware,  that  in  this  you  condemn  not  yourselves. 

Then,  as  they  were  coming  in  from  abroad,  they  espied  a  little 
robin  with  a  great  spider  in  his  mouth  ;  so  the  Interpreter  said. 
Look  here.  So  they  looked,  and  Mercy  wondered ;  but  Christiana 
said,  What  a  disparagement  is  it  to  such  a  pretty  little  bird  as  the 
robin-redbreast  is  !  he  being  also  a  bird  above  many,  that  loveth  to 
maintain  a  kind  of  sociableness  with  men.  I  had  thought  they  had 
lived  upon  crumbs  of  bread,  or  upon  other  such  harmless  matter  ;  I 
like  him  worse  than  I  did. 

The  Interpreter  then  replied.  This  robin  is  an  emblem  very  apt 
to  set  forth  some  professors  by ;  for  to  sight  they  are,  as  this  robin, 
pretty  of  note,  color,  and  carriage :  they  seem  also  to  have  a  very 
great  love  for  professors  that  are  sincere  ;  and,  above  all  others,  to 


of  God  to  exemplify,  and  of  which  Jesus  was 
himself  the  great  Exemplar. 

The  Garden  of  Flowers  is  designed  to 
teach  us  the  importance  of  discharging  well 
the  duty  of  our  station  and  calling,  as  mem- 
bers of  one  body,  in  which  all  the  members 
have  not,  indeed,  the  same  office,  but  each 


is  honorable  and  honored  in  the  fulfilment 
of  his  own  vocation. 

The  Corn  field,  rendering  back  only  straw 
and  stubble  as  the  fruit  of  the  seed-time, 
represents  the  unfruitful  recipient  of  God's 
grace  and  favor.  What  saith  the  Master  } 
"  Cut  it  down;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?" 


30-2 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress, 


desire  to  associate  with  them,  and  to  be  in  their  company,  as  if  they 
could  live  upon  the  good  man's  crumbs.  They  pretend,  also,  that 
therefore  it  is  that  they  frequent  the  house  of  the  godly,  and  the 
appointments  of  the  Lord;  but,  when  they  are  by  themselves,  as  the 
robin,  they  can  catch  and  gobble  up  spiders,  they  can  change  their 
diet,  drink  iniquity,  and  swallow  down  sin  like  water. 

So  when  they  were  come  again  into  the  house,  because  suppet 
was  as  yet  not  ready,  Christiana  again  desired  that  the  Interpretc. 
would  either  show  or  tell  them  of  some  other  things  that  are  profitable. 

Then  the  Interpreter  began,  and  said: 

The  fatter  the  sow  is,  the  more  she  desires  the  mire ;  the  fat"ter 
the  ox  is,  the  more  gamesomely  he  goes  to  the  slaughter ;  and  the 
more  healthy  the  lustful  man  is,  the  more  prone  he  is  unto  evil. 

There  is  a  desire  in  women  to  go  neat  and  fine,  and  it  is  a  comely 
thing  to  be  adorned  with  that  which  in  God's  sight  is  of  great  price. 

It  is  easier  watching  a  nighf  or  two,  than  to  sit  up  a  whole 
year  together;  so  it  is  easier  for  one  to  begin  to  profess  well,  than 
to  hold  out  as  he  should  to  the  end. 

Every  shipmaster,  when  in  a  storm,  will  willingly  cast  that  over- 
board which  is  of  the  smallest  value  in  the  vessel  ;  but  who  will  throw 
the  best  out  first  ?     None  but  he  that  feareth  not  God. 

One  leak  will  sink  a  ship,  and  one  sin  will  destroy  a  sinner. 

He  that  forgets  his  friend  is  ungrateful  unto  him  ;  but  he  that 
forgets  his  Saviour  is  unmerciful  to  himself 

He  that  lives  in  sin,  and  looks  for  happiness  hereafter,  is  like 
him  that  soweth  cockle,  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn  \vith  wheat  or 
barley. 

If  a  man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  day  to  him,  and 
make  it  always  his  company-keeper. 

Whispering  and  change  of  thoughts  prove  that  sin  is  in  the  world 

If  the  world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  counted  a  thing  of  that 
worth  with  men,  what  is  heaven,  that  God  commendeth? 

If  the  life  that  is  attended  with  so  many  troubles  is  so  loath  to  be 
let  go  by  us,  what  is  the  life  above  ? 


The  Robin,  with  the  spider  in  its  mouth, 
is  an  emblem  of  the  professor  who  makes  a 
fair  show  of  rehgion,  and  yet  is  dependent 
on  his  carnal  appetites.  This  lovely-feath- 
ered bird,  looking  so  innocent  and  fair,  is 
yet  degraded  in  its  grovelling  tastes.  It  may 
soar  aloft  toward  heaven,  and  sing  its  joy- 


ous song  ;  but  its  food  and  nourishment  are 
of  the  earth,  earthy. 

The  Interpreter  asked  Christiana. — In  the 
details    of    their    experience,    Christiana 
speaks    with    the  boldness   of  a    more   ad 
vanced   Pilgrim,  while  Mercy  speaks  with 
the  becoming  modesty  of  one  who  has  but 


Christiana  s  Experience. 


303 


Everybody  will  cry  up  the  goodness  of  men  ;  but  who  is  there 
that  is,  as  he  should  be,  affected  with  the  goodness  of  God  ? 

We  seldom  sit  down  to  meat,  but  we  eat  and  leave  ;  so  there  is 
in  Jesus  Christ  more  merit  and  righteousness  than  the  whole  world 
has  need  of. 

When  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes  them  out  into  his  gar- 
den again,  and  had  them  to  a  tree,  whose  inside  was  all  rotten  and 
gone,  and  yet  it  grew  and  had  leaves.  Then  said  Mercy,  what  means 
this  ?  This  tree,  said  he,  whose  outside  is  fair,  and  whose  inside  is 
rotten,  is  that  to  which  many  may  be  compared  that  are  in  the  gar- 
den of  God,  who  with  their  mouths  speak  high  in  behalf  of  God,  but 
in  deed  will  do  nothing  for  him  ;  whose  leaves  are  fair,  but  their 
heart  gfood  for  nothinof  but  to  be  tinder  for  the  devil's  tinder-box. 

Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all  things  set  on 
the  board  ;  so  they  sat  down  and  did  eat,  when  one  had  given  thanks. 
And  the  Interpreter  did  usually  entertain  those  that  lodged  with  him 
with  music  at  meals  ;  so  the  minstrels  played.  There  was  also  one 
that  did  sing,  and  a  very  fine  voice  he  had.     His  song  was  this : 

The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 

And  he  that  doth  me  feed  ; 
How  can  I,  then,  want  anything 

Whereof  I  stand  in  need  ? 

When  the  song  and  music  were  ended,  the  Interpreter  asked 
Christiana  what  it  was  that  at  first  did  move  her  thus  to  betake  her- 
self to  a  pilgrim's  life?  Christiana  answered:  First  the  loss  of  my 
husband  came  into  my  mind,  at  which  I  was  heartily  grieved ;  but  all 
that  was  but  natural  affection.  Then,  after  that,  came  the  troubles 
and  pilgrimage  of  my  husband  into  my  mind,  and  also  how  like  a 
churl  I  had  carried  it  to  him  as  to  that.  So  guilt  took  hold  of  my 
mind,  and  would  have  drawn  me  into  the  pond,  but  that  opportunely 
I  had  a  dream  of  the  well-being  of  my  husband,  and  a  letter  sent  me 
by  the  King  of  that  country  where  my  husband  dwells,  to  come  to 
him.  The  dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought  upon  my  mind, 
that  tiicy  forced  me  to  this  way. 

Inter.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  before  you  set  out  of 
doors  ? 


lately  entered  on  the  pilgrimage.  She  would 
be  silent,  if  she  could,  until  her  experience 
is  more  enlarged.  Not  in  visions  and  in 
dreams  was  she  warned  to  flee  from  wrath ; 


nor  yet  by  the  example  of  former  Pilgrims, 
but  by  the  invitation  of  Christiana,  such 
as  Moses  gave  to  Hobab  :  "  Come  thou  with 
us,  and  we  will  do  thee  good." 


304  The  Pilgrim^s  Progress. 

Chr.  Yes,  a  neighbor  of  mine,  one  Mrs.  Timorous  (she  was  akin 
to  him  tliat  would  have  persuaded  my  husband  to  go  back,  for  fear 
of  the  Hons),  she  also  befooled  me  for,  as  she  called  it,  my  intended 
desperate  adventure;  she  also  urged  what  she  could  to  dishearten  me 
from  it;  the  hardships  and  troubles  that  my  husband  met  with  in  the 
way ;  but  all  riiis  I  got  over  pretty  well.  But  a  dream  that  I  had  of 
two  ill-looking  ones,  that  I  thought  did  plot  how  to  make  me  miscarry 
in  my  journey,  that  hath  troubled  me  much  ;  yea,  it  still  runs  in  my 
mind  and  makes  me  afraid  of  every  one  that  I  meet,  lest  they  should 
meet  me  to  do  me  a  mischief,  and  to  turn  me  out  of  my  way.  Yea,  I 
may  tell  my  Lord,  though  I  would  not  everybody  know  of  it,  that, 
between  this  and  the  gate  by  which  we  got  into  the  way,  we  were 
both  so  sorely  assaulted  that  we  were  made  to  cry  out  Murder  !  and 
the  two  that  made  this  assault  upon  us  were  like  the  two  that  I  saw  in 
my  dream. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  Thy  beginning  is  good,  thy  latter  end 
shall  greatly  increase.  So  he  addressed  him  to  Mercy,  and  said  unto 
her,  And  what  moved  thee  to  come  hither,  sweetheart  ? 

Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  and  for  a  while  continued 
silent. 

Then  said  he.  Be  not  afraid ;  only  believe,  and  speak  thy  mind. 

Then  she  began,  and  said.  Truly,  sir,  my  want  of  experience  is 
that  which  makes  me  covet  to  be  in  silence,  and  that  also  that  fills 
me  with  fears  of  cominof  short  at  last.  I  cannot  tell  of  visions  and 
dreams  as  my  friend  Christiana  can ;  nor  know  I  what  it  is  to  mourn  for 
my  refusing  of  the  counsel  of  those  that  were  good  relations. 

Inter.  What  was  it  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  prevailed  with 
thee  to  do  as  thou  hast  done? 

Mer.  Why,  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up  to  be  gone 
from  our  town,  I  and  another  went  accidentally  to  see  her.  So  we 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  went  in.  When  we  were  within,  and  see- 
ing what  she  was  doing,  we  asked  her  what  was  her  meaning?  She 
said  she  was  sent  for  to  go  to  her  husband  ;  and  then  she  up  and  told 
us  how  she  had  seen  him  in  a  dream,  dwelling  in  a  curious  place 
among  Immortals,  wearing  a  crown,  playing  upon  a  harp,  eating  and 
drinking  at  his  Prince's  table,  and  singing  praises  to  him  for  bring- 
ing him  thither,  etc.  Now  methought,  while  she  was  telling  these 
things  unto  us,  my  heart  burned  within  me.  And  I  said  in  my  heart, 
If  this  be  true,  I  will  leave  my  father  and  my  mother,  and  the  land 
of  my  nativity,  and  will,  if  I  may,  go  along  with  Christiana.     So  I 


MR.  BRISK. 


>    MR.   GREAT-HEART. 


Preparations  for  Departure.  305 

asked  her  further  of  the  truth  of  these  things,  and  if  she  would  let  me 
go  with  her  ;  for  I  saw  now  that  there  was  no  dwelling,  but  with  the 
danger  of  ruin,  any  longer  in  our  town.  But  yet  I  came  away  with 
a  heavy  heart;  not  for  that  I  was  unwilling  to  come  away,  but  for 
that  so  many  of  my  relations  were  left  behind.  And  I  am  come  with 
all  the  desire  of  my  heart,  and  will  go,  if  I  may,  with  Christiana  to  her 
husband  and  his  King. 

Inter.  Thy  setting  out  is  good,  for  thou  hast  given  credit  to  the 
truth  ;  thou  art  a  Ruth,  who  did,  for  the  love  she  bare  to  Naomi  and 
to  the  Lord  her  God,  leave  father  and  mother,  and  the  land  of  her 
nativity,  to  come  out  and  go  with  a  people  that  she  knew  not  here- 
tofore. 

"The  Lord  recompense  thy  work,  and  a  full  reward  be  given 
thee  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  under  whose  wings  thou  art  come  to 
trust"  (Ruth  2:  II,  12). 

Now  supper  was  ended,  and  preparation  was  made  for  bed  ; 
the  women  were  laid  singly  alone,  and  the  boys  by  themselves. 
Now  when  Mercy  was  in  bed  she  could  not  sleep  for  joy,  for  that 
now  her  doubts  of  missing  at  last  were  removed  further  from  her 
than  ever  they  were  before.  So  she  lay  blessing  and  praising  God, 
who  had  such  favor  for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun,  and  prepared  them- 
selves for  their  departure ;  but  the  Interpreter  would  have  them 
tarry  a  while  ;  for,  said  he,  you  must  orderly  go  from  hence.  Then 
said  he  to  the  damsel  that  first  opened  unto  them,  Take  them  and 
have  them  into  the  garden  to  the  bath,  and  there  wash  them 
and  make  them  clean  from  the  soil  which  they  have  gathered  by 
travelling.  Then  Innocent  the  damsel  took  them,  and  led  them 
into  the  garden,  and  brought  them  to  the  bath;  so  she  told  them, 
that  there  they  must  wash  and  be  clean,  for  so  her  Master  would 
have  the  women  to  do  that  called  at  his  house  as  they  were  going 
on  pilgrimage.  Then  they  went  in  and  washed,  yea,  they  and  the 
boys  and  all ;  and  they  came  out  of  that  bath  not  only  sweet  and 
clean,  but  also  much  enlivened  and  strengthened  in  their  joints. 
So,  when  they  came  in,  they  looked  fairer  a  deal  than  when  they 
went  out  to  the  washing-. 

o 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden  from  the  bath,  the 
Interpreter  took  them,  and  looked  upon  them,  and  said  unto  them 
"Fair  as  the  moon."     Then  he  called  for  the  seal,  wherewith  they 
used  to  be  sealed  that  were  washed  in  this  bath.     So  the  seal  was 
20 


o 

!J1 


:=   H 


cr, 

W 

c 
u 

a 


(J 


I 


306 


Great-heart  becomes  the  Pilgrims    Gtdde. 


307 


brought,  and  he  set  his  mark  upon  them,  that  they  might  be  known 
in  the  places  whither  they  were  yet  to  go.  Now  the  seal  was  the 
contents  and  sum  of  the  passover,  which  the  children  of  Israel  did 
eat  when  they  came  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt  (Exod.  12:  8-10); 
and  the  mark  was  set  between  their  eyes.  This  seal  greatly  added 
to  their  beauty,  for  it  was  an  ornament  to  their  faces.  It  also  added 
to  their  gravity,  and  made  their  countenances  more  like  those  of 
angels. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again  to  the  damsel  that  waited  upon 
these  women,  Go  into  the  vestry,  and  fetch  out  garments  for  these 
people.  So  she  went  and  fetched  out  white  raiment,  and  laid  it 
down  before  him  ;  so  he  commanded  them  to  put  it  on ;  it  was  "fine 
linen,  white  and  clean."  When  the  women  were  thus  adorned, 
they  seemed  to  be  a  terror  one  to  the  other ;  for  that  they  could  not 
see  that  glory  each  one  in  herself,  which  they  could  see  in  each 
other.  Now,  therefore,  they  began  to  "esteem  each  other  better 
than  themselves ; "  for,  You  are  fairer  than  I  am  said  one;  and  You 
are  more  comely  than  I  am,  said  another.  The  children  also  stood 
amazed,  to  see  into  what  fashion  they  were  brought. 

The  Interpreter  then  called  for  a  man-servant  of  his,  on(i 
Great-heart,  and  bid  him  take  a  sword  and  helmet  and  shield ;  and 
take  these  my  daughters,  said  he,  conduct  them  to  the  house  called 
Beautiful,  at  which  place  they  will  rest  next.  So  he  took  his 
weapons,  and  went  before  them  ;  and  the  Interpreter  said,  God 
speed.  Those  also  that  belonged  to  the  family  sent  them  away  with 
many  a  good  wish.     So  they  went  on  their  way,  and  sang: 


This  place  has  been  our  second  stage, 
Here  we  have  heard  and  seen 

Those  good  things,  that  from  age  to  age 
To  others  hid  have  been. 

The  dunghill-raker,  spider,  hen, 

The  chicken,  too,  to  me 
Have  taught  a  lesson  ;  let  me  then 

Conformed  to  it  be. 


The  butcher,  garden,  and  the  field, 

The  robin  and  his  bait. 
Also  the  rotten  tree  doth  yield 

Me  argument  of  weight : 

To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray. 

To  strive  to  be  sincere  ; 
To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day, 

And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear. 


The  bath,  etc. — The  concluding  events  of 
this  visit  are  full  of  deep  spiritual  significance, 
seeing  that  the  opportunity  is  taken  to  invest 
Chkistiana  and  her  company  with  those 
marks  and  credentials  which  Chkistian  had 
received  at  the  subsequent  stage  of  the  jour- 
ney— at  the  Cross  and  the  Sepulchre.  They 
i^r««  conducted  to  the  bath,  which  Bunyan 


himself  interprets,  in  a  side-note,  to  meao 
"the  bath  of  sanctification."  From  thence 
they  return  washed  and  cleansed.  They 
then  receive  the  Seal  of  the  Spirit ;  and,  ere 
they  leave  the  house,  they  are  clothed  upon 
with  the  change  of  raiment — "  fine  linen, 
white  and  clean."  Thus  clad  in  the  sanc- 
tifying righteousness  of  the  Spirit,  they  ar^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 


The  Cross  and  the  Consequences. 

From  the  mouth  of  Good-will  (a  Divine  personage,  as  we  have  already  observed") 
Jhristiana  and  her  company  received  pardon  by  word,  with  the  kiss  of  peace  as  the  pled^^e 
and  assurance  of  the  promise.  To  this  was,  by-and-by,  to  be  added  a  full  view  of  the  way 
in  which  this  pardon  was  obtained,  a  distant  prospect  of  which  was  shown  them  at  the 
Wicket-gate.  To  the  near  view  of  that  scene  they  have  now  arrived.  They  stand  beside 
the  Cross  !  This  is  to  Christiana  the  full  confirmation  of  her  faith.  Christian  had  been 
so  borne  down  by  his  weight  of  guilt,  and  by  his  conviction  of  sin,  that  nothing  but  the  view 
of  the  Cross  and  of  the  bleeding  Lamb  could  suffice  to  loose  those  bonds,  and  set  him  free 
And  therefore  Bunyan  adds :  "  It  was  to  give  him  a  proof  of  the  virtue  of  this,  that  he  was 
suffered  to  carry  his  burden  to  the  Cross."  But  in  both  experiences — of  Christian  and 
Christiana — the  Crucified  One  is  honored  and  magnified,  as  the  sinner's  only  hope  ;  and 
both  could  alike  say  with  Paul :  "  God  f'cxrbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  Cross  of  our 
lord  Jesus  Christ"  (Gal.  6:    14). 

OW  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on,  and  Great- 
heart  before  them  ;  so  they  went  and  came  to  the  place 
where  Christian's  burden  fell  off  his  back,  and  tumbled 
into  a  sepulchre.  Here  then  they  made  a  pause,  and 
here  also  they  blessed  God.  Now,  said  Christiana,  it 
comes  to  my  mind  what  was  said  to  us  at  the  gate,  to  wit :  that  we 
should  have  pardon  by  word  and  deed — by  word,  that  is,  by  the 
promise  ;  by  deed,  to  wit,  in  the  way  it  was  obtained.  What  the 
promise  is,  of  that  I  know  something ;  but  what  it  is  to  have  pardon 
by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that  it  was  obtained,  Mr.  Great-heart,  I  sup- 
pose you  know ;  wherefore,  if  you  please,  let  us  hear  you  discourse 
thereof. 


also  "clothed  with  humility,"  each  seeing 
the  glory  of  the  rest,  and  esteeming  others 
better  than  themselves. 

And  now,  as  the  last  parting  gift  of  the 
Interpreter,  the  Pilgrim  band  receive  their 
convoy  for  the  road,  in  the  person  of  the  in- 
domitable Great-heart,  the  future  conduc- 
tor of  their  pilgrimage,  the  hero  of  a  hundred 
battles,  the  somewhat  more  than  human 
Grf.at-heart — the  boldest  champion  of  the 
^cond  Part  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


And  Great-heart  before  them. — The  char- 
acter of  Great-heart  now  begins  to  develop 
itself,  in  his  double  capacity  as  teacher  and 
guide ;  for  this  brave  man  is  mighty  both  in 
word  and  deed.  There  is  something  super- 
human in  the  character  of  this  great  conduc 
tor  of  the  pilgrimage.  Mr.  Scott's  idea,  thaf 
it  means  "the  stated  pastoral  care  of  a  vig- 
ilant minister,"  scarcely  rises  to  the  high 
dignity  of  this  lion-hearted  man.  Nor  can 
we  agree  with  Macaulay  in  his  charge  of  in- 


(308) 


Great-heart  ^s  Discourse  on  justification. 


309 


GnEAT.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done  is  pardon  obtained  by  some 
one  for  another  that  hath  need  thereof;  not  by  the  person  par- 
doned,  but  in  "  the  way,"  saith  another,  "in  which  I  have  obtained 
it."  So  then  (to  speak  to  the  question  more  at  large)  the  pardon 
that  you  and  Mercy  and  these  boys  have  attained  was  obtained  by 
another,  to  wit,  by  him  that  let  you  in  at  that  gate  ;  and  he  hath 
'  obtained  it  in  this  double  way :  he  has  performed  righteousness  to 
cover  you,  and  spilt  his  blood  to  wash  you  in. 

Chr.    But,  if  he  parts  with  his  righteousness  to  us,  what  will 
he  have  for  himself? 

Great.    He  has  more  righteousness  than  you   have  need  ol, 
or  than  he  needeth  himself. 

Chr.    Pray,  make  that  appear. 

Great.  With  all  my  heart ;  but  first  I  must  promise,  that  he 
of  whom  we  are  now  about  to  speak  is  one  that  hath  not  his  fellow. 
He  has  two  natures  in  one  person,  plain  to  be  distinguished,  im- 
possible to  be  divided.  Unto  each  of  these  nati  res  a  righteousness 
belongeth,  and  each  righteousness  is  essential  to  that  nature.  So 
that  one  may  as  easily  cause  the  nature  to  be  extinct,  as  to  separate 
its  justice  or  righteousness  from  it.  Of  these  righteousnesses, 
therefore,  we  are  not  made  partakers,  so  as  that  they,  or  any  oi 
them,  shall  be  put  upon  us,  that  we  might  be  made  just  and  live 
thereby.  Besides  these,  there  is  a  righteousness  which  this  person 
has,  as  these  two  natures  are  joined  in  one.  And  this  is  not  the 
righteousness  of  the  Godhead,  as  distinguished  from  the  manhood  ; 
nor  the  righteousness  of  the  manhood,  as  distinguished  from  the 
Godhead ;  but  a  righteousness  which  standeth  in  the  union  of  both 
natures,  and  may  properly  be  called  the  righteousness  that  is  essen- 
tial to  his  being  prepared  of  God  to  the  capacity  of  the  mediatory 
office,  which  he  was  to  be  intrusted  with.  If  he  parts  with  his  first 
righteousness,  he  parts  with  his  Godhead  ;  if  he  parts  with  his 
second  righteousness,  he  parts  with  the  purity  of  his  manhood ;  if 
he  parts  with  his  third,  he  parts  with  that  perfection  which  capaci- 
tates him  for  the   office   of  mediation.     He   has  therefore  another 


consistency  against  the  AUegorist,  in  com- 
bining the  teaching  and  mihtant  office  in 
his  one  personage. 

In  this  double  office  of  Great-heart  is 
certainly  included  more  than  can  be  found 
in  any,  even  of  the  choicest  and  bravest 
human    companions  of   the  way.     Great- 


heart  must  rather  mean  a  principle  than  a 
person — the  Divine  grace  and  boldness. im- 
planted in  the  heart,  or  kept  so  consciously 
near  as  to  insure  Divine  protection  and  con- 
tinual aid  in  all  danger  and  necessities  ;  that 
grace  that  makes  the  heart  strong  and  lusty 
by  feeding  it  with  the  daily  bread  of  spiritual 


310 


The  Pilgri7n\   P7'0gresS, 


righteousness,  which  standeth  in  performance  or  obedience  to  a 
revealed  will  ;  and  that  is  it  that  he  puts  upon  sinners,  and  that  by 
which  their  sins  are  covered.  Wherefore  he  saith,  "As  by  one 
man's  disobedience  many  were  made  sinners,  so  by  the  obedience 
of  one  shall  many  be  made  righteous"  (Rom.  5  :   19). 

Chr.    But  are  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use  to  us  ? 

Great.  Yes  ;  for  though  they  are  essential  to  his  natures  and 
offices,  and  cannot  be  communicated  to  another,  yet  it  is  by  virtue 
of  them  that  the  righteousness  that  justifies  is  for  that  purpose 
efficacious.  The  righteousness  of  his  Godhead  gives  virtue  to  his 
obedience  ;  the  righteousness  of  his  manhood  giveth  capability  to 
his  obedience  to  justify  ;  and  the  righteousness  that  standeth  in  the 
union  of  these  two  natures  to  his  office  giveth  authority  to  that 
righteousness  to  do  the  work  for  which  it  was  or  Jained. 

So  then  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  hath  no  need 
of  ;  for  he  is  God  without  it  ;  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as 
man,  has  no  need  of  to  make  him  so,  for  he  is  perfect  man  without 
it ;  again,  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God-man,  has  no  need 
of,  for  he  is  perfectlyso  without  it.  Here  then  is  a  righteousness  that 
Christ,  as  God,  and  as  God-man,  has  no  need  of,  with  reference  to 
himself,  and  therefore  he  can  spare  it — a  justifying  righteousness 
that  he  for  himself  wanteth  not,  and  therefore  giveth  it  away.  Hence 
it  is  called  "the  gift  of  righteousness"  (Rom.  5  :  17).  This  righteous- 
ness, since  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has  made  himself  under  the  law, 
must  be  given  away;  for  the  law  doth  not  only  bind  him  that  is  under 
it  to  do  justly,  but  to  use  charity.  Wherefore  he  must,  or  ought  by  the 
law,  if  he  hath  two  coats,  to  give  one  to  him  that  has  none.  Now 
our  Lord  indeed  hath  two  coats,  one  for  himself  and  one  to  spare ; 
wherefore  he  freely  bestows  one  upon  those  that  have  none.  And 
thus,  Christiana  and  Mercy,  and  the  rest  of  you  that  are  here,  doth 
your  pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the  work  of  another  man.  Your 
Lord  Christ  is  he  that  worked,  and  hath  given  away  what  he  wrought 
for  to  the  next  poor  beggar  he  meets. 


food.  It  is  that  Presence  of  Christ,  so  real 
and  so  near,  that  gives  the  Pilgrim  conscious 
strength — such  as  Moses  desired  for  his 
gre'at  enterprise,  when  he  said,  "  If  thy 
presence  go  not  with  me,  carry  us  not  up 
hence"  (Ex.  33:   15). 

Pardon  by  ivord  and  deed. — This  is  evi- 
dently a  leading    thought  in  the   mind   of 


Bunyan.  He  gives  prominence  to  it  at  the 
Wicket-gate,  and  now  more  thoroughly  un- 
folds its  meaning  at  the  Cross.  Indeed,  ht 
labors  to  reveal  its  inner  truth,  and  thereby 
to  illustrate  the  mighty  salvation  obtained 
for  us  by  Christ.  We  must,  however,  con- 
fess that  this  exposition  of  Great-heart  is' 
not  as  lucid  as  most  c^  the  other  doctrinal 


The  Curse  of  Sin. 


311 


THE  FATE  OF  SIMPLE.  SLOTH  AND  PRESUMPTION. 

But  again,  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must  something  be 
paid  to  God  as  a  price,  as  well  as  something  prepared  to  cover  us 
withal. 

Sin  has  delivered  us  up  to  the  just  curse  of  a  righteous  law ; 
now  from  this  curse  we  must  be  justified  by  way  of  redemption,  a 
price  being  paid  for  the  harms  we  have  done  ;  and  this  is  by  the 
blood  of  our  Lord,  who  came  and  stood  in  your  place  and  stead,  and 
died  your  death  for  your  transgressions ;  thus  has  he  ransomed  you 


teachings  of  the  Allegory ;  and  we  agree 
with  Mr.  Scott,  when  he  says,  "  It  is  need- 
lessly systematical  and  rather  obscure."  We 
might  perhaps  arrive  at  the  same  conclusion 
Vy  stating  the  question  thus  : 


Man  once  possessed  an  original  righteous- 
ness, which  consisted  in  his  obedience  to 
God.  From  this  righteousness  he  fell  by  the 
sin  of  disobedience.  A  new  covenant  was 
straightway  made  with  man,  to  this  effect— 


Sl2 


The  Pilgrim's  Progresii 


from  your  transgressions  by  blood,  and  covered  your  polluted  and 
deformed  souls  with  righteousness  (Rom.  8 :  34 ;  Gal.  3:  13);  for 
the  sake  of  which  God  passeth  by  you,  and  will  not  hurt  you,  when 
he  comes  to  judge  the  world. 

Chr.  This  is  brave  ;  now  I  see  that  there  was  something  to  be 
learned  by  our  being  pardoned  by  word  mid  deed.  Good  Mercy,  let 
us  labor  to  keep  this  in  mind  ;  and,  my  children,  do  you  remember  it 
also.  But,  sir,  was  not  this  it  that  made  my  good  Christian's  bur- 
den fall  from  off  his  shoulder,  and  that  made  him  give  three  leaps 
for  joy? 

Great.  Yes,  it  was  the  belief  of  this  that  cut  off  those  strings, 
that  could  not  be  cut  by  other  means ;  and  it  was  to  give  him  a 
proof  of  the  virtue  of  this  that  he  was  suffered  to  carry  his  burden 
to  the  Cross. 

Chr.  I  thought  so ;  for,  though  my  heart  was  lightsome  and 
joyous  before,  yet  it  is  ten  times  more  lightsome  and  joyous  now. 
And  I  am  persuaded  by  what  I  have  felt  (though  I  have  felt  but  little 
as  yet)  that  if  the  most  burdened  man  in  the  world  was  here,  and 
did  see  and  believe  as  I  now  do,  it  would  make  his  heart  merry  and 
blithe. 

Great.  There  is  not  only  comfort  and  the  ease  of  a  burden 
brought  to  us,  by  the  sight  and  consideration  of  these,  but  ^n 
endeared  affection  begot  in  us  by  it ;  for  who  can  (if  he  does  but 
once  think  that  pardon  comes  not  only  by  promise,  but  thus)  but  be 
affected  with  the  way  and  means  of  his  redemption,  and  so  with  the 
man  that  hath  wrought  it  for  him  ? 

Chr.  True  ;  methinks  it  makes  my  heart  bleed  to  think  that 
he  should  bleed  for  me.  Oh  !  thou  loving  One  !  Oh  !  thou  blessed 
One  !  thou  deservest  to  have  me ;  thou  hast  bought  me  ;  thou  de- 
servest  to  have  me  all ;   thou  hast  paid  for  me  ten  thousand  times 


if  he  can  by  obedience  regain  his  former 
relationship  to  God,  well;  but  if  not,  then, 
for  the  purpose  of  man's  salvation,  the 
righteousness  of  another  is  offered,  which  is 
made  available  for  man,  and,  being  perfect, 
is  acceptable  before  God.  To  test  man's 
power  to  regain  his  lost  position  by  renewed 
obedience,  a  law  was  given,  with  a  legal 
righteousness  attached  to  the  perfect  fulfil- 
ment of  its  conditions.  Man  has  not  kept 
this  law ;  he  has  broken  it,  in  thcght,  in 
word,  and  in  deed.     Op  the  scorff  :.ien,  of 


man's  own  personal  obedience,  his  salvation 
is  utterly  hopeless.  Shall  man  die  the  death? 
He  need  not ;  for  now  steps  in  the  pro- 
vision, in  mercy  made,  of  the  righteousness 
of  another — the  righteousness  of  Christ.  He 
is  perfect  God,  and  therefore  righteous  in  all 
his  way,  and  holy  in  all  his  works.  He  is 
sinless  man,  and  therefore  righteous,  need- 
ing no  obedience  to  constitute  his  personal 
righteousness.  But  though  he  needed  not 
such  obedience,  yet  he  did  "learn  obedi- 
ence," and  by  his  subjection  to  the  law  in 


The  ^nd  of  Simple y  Sloth,  and  PresiLmptmi,  3l3 

more  than  I  am  worth !  No  marvel  that  this  made  the  tears  stand 
in  my  husband's  eyes,  and  that  it  made  him  trudge  so  nimbly  on.  I 
am  persuaded  he  wished  me  with  him  ;  but,  vile  wretch  that  I  was ! 
I  let  him  come  all  alone.  O  Mercy,  that  thy  father  and  mother 
were  here  ;  yea,  and  Mrs.  Timorous  also  ;  nay,  I  wish  now  with  all 
my  heart  that  here  was  Madam  Wanton,  too.  Surely,  surely,  their 
hearts  would  be  affected  ;  nor  could  the  fear  of  the  one,  nor  the 
powerful  lusts  of  the  other,  prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again, 
and  refuse  to  become  good  pilgrims. 

Great.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your  affections  ;  will 
it,  think  you,  be  always  thus  with  you  ?  Besides,  this  is  not  com- 
municated to  every  one,  nor  to  every  one  that  did  see  your  Jesus 
bleed.  There  were  that  stood  by,  and  that  saw  the  blood  run  from 
his  heart  to  the  ground,  and  yet  were  so  far  off  this,  that,  instead  of 
lamenting,  they  laughed  at  him,  and,  instead  of  becoming  his  dis- 
ciples, did  harden  their  hearts  against  him.  So  that  all  that  you 
have,  my  daughters,  you  have  by  peculiar  impression  made  by  a 
Divine  contemplating  upon  what  I  have  spoken  to  you.  Remem- 
ber that  it  was  told  you,  that  the  hen  by  her  common  call  gives  no 
meat  to  her  chickens.     This  you  have  therefore  by  a  special  grace. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  until  they  were  come 
to  the  place  that  Simple  and  Sloth  and  Presumption  lay  and  slept 
in,  when  Christian  went  by  on  pilgrimage  ;  and  behold  they  were 
hanged  up  in  irons  a  little  way  off  on  the  other  side. 

Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that  was  their  guide  and  conductor, 
What  are  these  three  men  ?  and  for  what  are  they  hanged  there? 

Great.  These  three  men  were  men  of  bad  qualities  ;  they  had 
no  mind  to  be  pilgrims  themselves,  and  whomsoever  they  could  they 
hindered  ;  they  were  for  sloth  and  folly  themselves,  and  whomsoever 
they  could  persuade,  they  made  so  too  ;  and  withal  taught  them  to 
presume  that  they  should  do  as  well  at  last.  They  were  asleep  when 
Christian  went  by ;  and  now  you  go  by  they  are  hanged. 

all  things,  by  his  sinless  submission  to  its  |  Jesus,  presented  freely  to  us,  by  which  we, 


demands,  and  by  his  sufferings  as  a  substi- 
tute for  man — he  hath  a  righteousness  which 
was  not  required  or  needed  for  himself,  and 


who  have  no  personal  righteousness,  are 
accounted  righteous,  through  Christ's  merits 
and  for  Christ's  sake. 


which    as  '  the  gift  of  righteousness,"   he  Simple,  Sloth,  and  Presumption. — In   the 

hath  now  to  bestow  upon  all  those  who  will   |  former  pilgrimage  we  have  read  of  these  men 


receive  it  by  faith  in  his  great  sacrifice.  This 
is  the  deed,  by  which  pardon  is  attained — 
through    the   meritorious   righteousness    of 


-in  their  sin  ;  we  now  read  of  them  in  their 
condemnation.  Great  sinners,  who  are  zeal- 
ous in  their  sin,  and  thus  mislead  those  that 


814 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


Mek.    But  could  they  persuade  any  one  to  be  of  tlieir  opinion  ? 

Grea  \  Yes,  they  turned  several  out  of  the  way.  Tlu-ie  was 
51owpace  ttiey  persuaded  to  do  as  they.  They  also  prevailed  widi 
one  Short-wik.d,  with  one  No-heart,  with  one  Linger-after  lust,  and 
with  one  Sleepy-head,  and  with  a  young  woman,  her  name  was  Dull, 
to  turn  out  of  t»]e  way  and  become  as  they.  Besides,  they  brought 
up  an  ill  report  o;  your  Lord,  persuading  others  that  he  was  a  hard 
task-master.  The/  also  brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land, 
saying  it  was  not  half  so  good  as  some  pretended  It  was.  They  also 
began  to  vilify  his  servants^  and  to  count  the  best  of  them  meddlesome, 
troublesome  busybodios.  Further,  they  would  call  the  bread  of  God, 
husks  ;  the  comforts  of  hii:  children,  fancies  ;  the  travail  and  labor  of 
pilgrims,  things  to  no  pjjpose. 

Nay,  said  Christiai.a,  if  they  were  such,  they  should  never  be 
bewailed  by  me  ;  they  ha/r:  but  what  they  deserve  ;  and  I  think  it  well 
that  they  stand  so  near  I'le  highway,  that  others  may  see  and  take 
warning.  But  had  it  not  been  well  if  their  crimes  had  been  graven 
on  some  plate  of  iron  or  brass,  and  left  here  where  they  did  their 
mischiefs,  for  a  caution  to  other  bad  men  ? 

Great.  So  it  is,  as  you  may  well  perceive,  if  you  will  go  a  liule 
to  the  wall. 

Mer.  No,  no  ;  let  them  hang,  and  their  names  rot,  and  their 
crimes  live  forever  against  them  ;  I  think  it  is  a  high  favor  that  they 
are  hanged  before  we  came  hither ;  who  knows  else  what  they  might 
have  done  to  such  poor  women  as  we  are  ? 

Then  she  turned  it  into  a  song,  saying — 

Now,  then,  you  three,  hang  there,  and  be  a  sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine ; 
And  let  him  that  comes  after  fear  this  end, 
If  unto  pilgrims  he  is  not  a  friend. 
And  thou,  my  soul,  of  all  such  men  beware, 
That  unto  holiness  opposers  are. 


would  go  right  on  their  way,  must  be  made 
e;;amples  of,  that  all  men  may  see  and  take 
warning,  that  they  follow  not  in  their  steps. 
The  Second  Pilgrimage  is  conducted  in  the 
same  way  as  was  the  former — exposed  to,  or 
exempt  from,  its  difficulties  and  temptations, 
as  God's  good  grace  and  mercy  may  ap- 
point. Ofttimes  the  stumbling-block  that 
has  been  in  the  path  of  one  man  has  been 
removed  ere  the  next  pilgrim  hies  that  way. 


The  hill  Difficulty. — This  hill  is  not  a  mere 
circumstance  or  incident,  which  may  or  may 
not  occur  upon  the  road,  but  is  an  essential 
part  of  the  pilgrimage,  and  must  be  climbed, 
and  thus  overpassed.  It  is  the  next  stage 
after  the  Cross,  appointed  as  a  test  to  those 
that  have  received  pardon  and  peace,  to  see 
what  they  are  able  to  bear  and  are  ready  to 
endure  for  Christ.  It  also  is  the  stage  before 
the  communion  of  the  Palace  Beautiful,  and 


The  Hill  D'_Slculty 


315 


Thus  they  wenton  till  they  came  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  Difficulty, 
where  again  their  good  friend  Mr.  Great-heart  took  an  occasion  to 
tell  them  what  had  happened  there  when  Christian  himself  went  by. 
So  he  had  them  first  to  the  spring;  Lo,  saith  he,  this  is  the  spring 
diat  Christian  drank  of  before  he  went  up  this  hill ;  and  then  it  was 
clear  and  good,  but  now  it  is  dirty  with  the  feet  of  some  that  are  not 
djsirous  that  pilgrims  here  should  quench  their  thirst  (Ezek.  34: 
18).  Thereat  Mercy  said,  And  why  so  envious,  trow?  But,  said  the 
guide,  it  will  do,  if  taken  up  and  put  into  a  vessel  that  is  sweet  and 
good ;  for  then  the  dirt  will  sink  to  the  bottom,  and  the  water  come 
out  by  itself  more  clear.  Thus  therefore  Christiana  and  her  com- 
panions were  compelled  to  do.  They  took  it  up,  and  put  it  into  an 
earthen  pot,  and  so  let  it  stand  till  the  dirt  was  gone  to  the  bottom, 
und  they  drank  thereof. 

Next  he  showed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  where  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  lost  themselves.  Ancl,  said 
he,  these  are  dangerous  paths  ;  two  were  here  cast  away  when  Chris- 
tian came  by.  And,  although  you  see  these  ways  are  since  stopped 
up  with  chains,  posts,  and  a  ditch,  yet  there  are  those  that  will  choose 
to  adventure  here  rather  than  take  the  pains  to  go  up  this  hill, 

Chr.  "  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard  "  (Prov.  13:  15);  it  is 
a  wonder  that  they  can  get  into  those  ways  without  danger  of  break- 
ing their  necks. 

Great.  They  will  venture  ;  yea,  if  at  any  time  any  of  the  King's 
servants  do  happen  to  see  them,  and  do  call  upon  them,  and  tell 
them  that  they  are  in  the  wrong  way,  and  do  bid  them  beware  of 
the  danger,  then  they  railingly  return  them  answer,  and  say.  "As 
for  the  word  that  thou  hast  spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  King, 
we  will  not  hearken  unto  thee ;  but  we  will  certainly  do  whatso- 
ever thing  goeth  out  of  our  mouth  "  (Jer.  44  :  16,  17),  Nay,  if  you 
look  a  litde  further,  you  shall  see  that  these  ways  are  made  caution 
ary  enough,  not  only  by  these  posts,  and  ditch,  and  chain,  but  also 
by  being  hedged  up  ;  yet  they  will  choose  to  go  there. 


is  there  placed,  as  an  ordeal  or  sifting  pro- 
cess, for  trial  and  proof  of  faith  ;  for  only 
they  who  are  prepared  to  combat  with  diffi- 
culties, and  to  overcome  them,  shall  be  ac- 
counted worthy  of  the  more  exalted  privileges 
of  the  way. 

But  here  is  a  drawback  or  disadvantage  at 
the  very  base  of  the  ascent :  the  spring  of 


which  Christian  drank,  and  by  which  he 
was  refreshed,  is  now  soiled  and  made  muddy 
by  the  feet  of  some  who  are  ill-disposed  to- 
wards the  Pilgrims  of  the  Lord.  This  spring 
is  the  Word  of  God,  in  its  refreshment  of  the 
soul.  It  was  clear  as  crystal  for  the  former 
Pilgrims,  but  not  so  now.  Allusion  is,  no 
doubt,  intended  here  to  some  degeneracy  of 


l-H 

Oh 

H 

O 

14 

Q 

CO 

o 

pL. 

w 


ai6 


The  Pilgrims  refresh  Themselves  in  the  Princes  Arbor,    317 


Chr.  They  are  Idle  ;  they  love  not  to  take  pains  ;  up-hill  way  is 
unpleasant  to  them.  So  it  is  fulfilled  unto  them  as  it  is  written,  "  The 
way  of  the  slothful  man  is  a  hedge  of  thorns"  (Prov.  15:19).  Yea, 
they  will  rather  choose  to  walk  upon  a  snare  than  to  go  up  this  hill, 
and  the  rest  of  this  way  to  the  City. 

Then  they  set  forward,  and  began  to  go  up  the  hill,  and  up  the 
hill  they  went ;  but  before  they  got  to  the  top  Christiana  began  to 
pant,  and  said,  I  dare  say  this  is  a  breathing  hill  ;  no  marvel  if  they 
that  love  their  ease  more  than  their  souls  choose  to  themselves  a 
smoother  way.  Then  said  Mercy,  I  must  sit  down  ;  also  the  least  of 
the  children  began  to  cry.  Come,  come,  said  Great-heart,  sit  not 
down  here,  for  a  litde  above  is  the  Prince's  arbor.  Then  he  took 
the  litde  boy  by  the  hand  and  led  him  up  thereto. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  arbor,  they  were  very  willing  to 
sit  down,  for  they  were  all  in  a  pelting  heat.  Then  said  Mercy,  How 
sweet  is  rest  to  them  that  labor  (Matt.  11 :  28).  And  how  orood  is 
the  Prince  of  pilgrims  to  provide  such  resting-places  for  them.  Of  this 
arbor  I  have  heard  much  ;  but  I  never  saw  it  before.  But  here  let  us 
beware  of  sleeping ;  for,  as  I  have  heard,  that  cost  poor  Christian 
dear. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  the  litde  ones.  Come,  my  pretty 
)oys,  how  do  you  do  ?  What  think  you  now  of  going  on  pilgrimage  ? 
Sir,  said  the  least,  I  was  almost  beat  out  of  heart ;  but  I  thank  you 
for  lending  me  a  hand  in  my  need.  And  I  remember  now  what  my 
mother  hath  told  me,  namely,  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  a  ladder, 
and  the  way  to  hell  is  as  down  a  hill.  But  I  had  rather  go  up  the 
ladder  to  life,  than  down  the  hill  to  death. 

Then  said  Mercy,  But  the  proverb  is,  "  To  go  down  the  hill  is 
easy."  But  James  said  (for  that  was  his  name),  The  day  is  coming 
when,  in  my  opinion,  going  down  the  hill  will  be  the  hardest  of  all. 
'Tis  a  good  boy,  said  his  master,  thou  hast  given  her  a  right  answer. 
Then  Mercy  smiled,  but  the  little  boy  did  blush. 

Come,  said  Christiana,  will  you  eat  a  bit  to  sweeten  your  mouths, 
while  you  sit  here  to  rest  your  legs  ?  fori  have  here  a  piece  of  pome- 
granate, which  Mr.  Interpreter  put  into  my  hand  just  when  I  came 


spiritual  life,  and  especially  of  spiritual  teach- 
ing. This  is  the  second  allusion  of  the  kind  ; 
a  former  instance  being  found  at  the  Slough 
of  Despond,  which  had  been  growing  worse, 
owing  to  the  indifferent  materials  used  for 
mending  it.     It  is  supposed  that  during  the 


interval  between  the  writing  of  the  two  parts 
of  the  Progress,  this  declension  had  ap- 
peared in  the  ministers  of  the  Word — their, 
doctrine  and  teaching  being  not  so  pure  as 
it  had  once  been. 

The  advice  here  is  goodly  counsel :   "  Let 


318 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress, 


out  of  his  door.  He  gave  me  also  a  piece  of  an  honeycomb,  and  a 
litrie  botde  of  spirits.  I  diought  he  gave  you  something,  said  Mercy, 
because  he  called  you  aside.  Yes,  so  he  did,  said  the  other.  But, 
said  Christiana,  it  shall  be  still  as  I  said  it  should  when  at  first  we 
came  from  home ;  thou  shalt  be  a  sharer  in  all  the  good  that  I  have, 
because  thou  so  willingly  didst  become  my  companion.  Then  she 
gave  to  them,  and  they  did  eat,  both  Mercy  and  the  boys.  And  said 
Christiana  to  Mr.  Great-heart,  Sir,  will  you  do  as  we?  But  he  an- 
swered, You  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  presently  I  shall  return  ; 
much  good  may  what  you  have  do  to  you.  At  home  I  eat  the  same 
every  day. 

Now  when  they  had  eaten  and  drunk,  and  had  chatted  a  little 
longer,  their  guide  said  to  them,  The  day  wears  away  ;  if  you  think 
good,  let  us  prepare  to  be  going.  So  they  got  up  to  go,  and  the  little 
boys  went  before  ;  but  Christiana  forgot  to  take  her  bottle  of  spirits 
with  her ;  so  she  sent  her  little  boy  back  to  fetch  it.  Then  said  Mercy, 
I  think  this  is  a  losing  place.  Here  Christian  lost  his  roll,  and  here 
Christiana  left  her  bottle  behind  her.  Sir,  what  is  the  cause  of  this? 
So  their  guide  made  answer,  and  said.  The  cause  is  sleep  or  forget- 
fulness ;  some  sleep  when  they  should  keep  awake,  and  some  forget 
when  they  should  remember.  And  this  is  the  very  cause  why  often 
at  the  resting-places,  some  pilgrims  in  some  things  come  off  losers. 
Pilgrims  should  watch  and  remember  what  they  have  already  received 
under  their  greatest  enjoyments  ;  but,  for  want  of  doing  so,  ofttimes 
their  rejoicing  ends  in  tears,  and  their  sunshine  in  a  cloud  ;  witness 
the  story  of  Christian  at  this  place. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust  and  Timor- 
ous met  Christian,  to  persuade  him  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions, 
they  perceived  as  it  were  a  stage,  and  before  it,  towards  the  road,  a 
broad  plate,  with  a  copy  ot  verses  written  thereon  ;  and.  underneath, 
the  reason  of  raising  up  of  that  stage  in  that  place  rendered.  The 
verses  were : 

Let  him  that  sees  this  stage,  take  heed 

Upon  his  heart  and  tongue ; 
Lest,  if  he  do  not,  here  he  speed 

As  some  have  long  agone. 


it  stand  a  while."  Degenerate  preaching  of 
the  Word  is  the  admixture  of  error  with 
irnth  ;  and  as  these  elements  cannot  com- 
bine, they  must  be  separated;  and  by-and- 
by  the  error  will  settle  down  by  itself,  and 


leave  the  waters  pure.  Then  ynu  may  safelv 
drink  it,  and  be  refreshed  to  meet  the  diffi 
culties  of  the  way. 

The  ascent,  as  its  name  implies,  proved 
difficult.     An  interesting  feature  in  the  char 


The  Eficounter  with   G^n^n. 


319 


The  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  "This  stage  was  built 
to  punish  such  upon,  who,  througli  timorousness  or  mistrust,  shall  be 
afraid  to  go  further  on  pilgrimage.  Also  on  this  stage  both  Mistrust 
and  Timorous  were  burnt  through  the  tongue  with  a  hot  iron,  for  en- 
deavoring to  hinder  Christian  on  his  journey." 

Then  said  Mercy,  This  is  much  like  the  saying  of  the  Beloved, 
"What  shall  be  given  unto  thee?  or  what  shall  be  done  unto  thee, 
thou  false  tongue  ?  Sharp  arrows  of  the  mighty,  with  coals  of  juniper  " 
(Ps.  120:  3,  4). 

So  they  went  on,  till  they  came  within  the  sight  of  the  lions. 
Now  Mr.  Great-heart  was  a  strong  man,  so  he  was  not  afraid  of  a 
lion  ;  but  yet,  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  place  where  the  lions 
v/ere,  the  boys  that  went  before  were  now  glad  to  cringe  behind,  for 
they  were  afraid  of  the  lions  ;  so  they  stepped  back  and  went  behind. 
At  this  their  guide  smiled,  and  said.  How  now,  my  boys  ;  do  you  love 
to  go  before  when  no  danger  doth  approach,,  and  love  to  come  be- 
hind so  soon  as  the  lions  appear? 

Now  as  they  went  on,  Mr.  Great-heart  drew  his  sword,  with  intent 
to  make  a  way  for  the  pilgrims  in  spite  of  the  lions.  Then  there 
appeared  one  that  it  seems  had  taken  upon  him  to  back  the  lions  ; 
and  he  said  to  the  pilgrims' guide,  What  is  the  cause  of  your  coming 
hither?  Now  the  name  of  tliat  man  was  Grim,  or  Bloody-man,  be- 
cause of  his  slaying  of  pilgrims  ;  and  he  was  of  the  race  of  the 
giants. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims*  guide.  These  women  and  children  are 
going  on  pilgrimage ;  and  this  is  the  way  they  must  go  ;  and  go  it 
they  shall,  in  spite  of  thee  and  the  lions. 

Grim.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither  shall  they  go  therein.  I  am 
come  forth  to  withstand  them,  and  to  that  end  w^ill  back  the  lions. 

Now,  to  say  the  truth,  by  reason  of  the  fierceness  of  the  lions, 
and  of  the  grim  carriage  of  him  that  did  back  them,  this  way  of 
^ate  had  been  much  unoccupied,  and  was  almost  all  grown  over  with 
grass. 


acter  of  Great-heart  occurs  here — his  care 
of  die  little  children.  He  is  like  the  Ciuod 
Shepherd  that  has  love  and  tenderness 
enough  to  take  the  young  lambs  in  his  arms, 
and  yet  power  and  strength  enough  to  slay 
the  roaring  lion  that  would  devour  the  flock. 
Witliin  sight  of  the  lions.  --The  experience 
of  the  path  is  unchanged,  except  .n  some  few- 


incidental  circumstances.  One  of  these  in- 
cidents, that  diversify  the  scene,  is  now  be- 
fore us.  The  pass  of  the  lions  seems  even 
more  dangerous  now  than  it  had  been  when 
Chkistian  passed  that  way.  The  lions  are 
quite  as  wrathful ;  they  are,  moreover,  backed 
by  a  Giant;  the  porter,  Watchful,  is  not 
in  view ;  and  the  nar^v  consists  of  womep 


320 


The  Pilgriins  Progress:, 


THE  PLACE  WHERE  MISTRUST  AND  TIMOROUS  WERE  PUNISHED. 


Then  said  Christiana,  Thoug-h  the  highways  have  been  unoccupied 
heretofore,  and  though  the  travellers  have  been  made  in  times  past  to 
walk  through  by-paths,  it  must  not  be  so  now  I  am  risen — "  Now  I  am 
risen  a  mother  in  Israel ''  (Judg.  5  :  6,  7). 

Then  he  swore  by  the  lions  that  it  should  ;  and  therefore  bid  them 
turn  aside,  for  they  should  not  have  passage  there.  But  Great-heart 
their  guide  made  first  his  approach  unto  Grim,  and  laid  so  heavily 
on  him  with  his  sword,  that  he  forced  him  to  retreat. 

Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the  lions,  Will  you  slay  me 
upon  mine  own  ground  ? 


and  children.  But,  over  against  all  these 
disadvantages,  there  is  one  countervailing 
advantage — they  have  brave  Gkeat-heart 
with  them  ;  and  this  is  everything. 


This  Tvay  had  lain  much  unoccupied — 
The  political  allusion  here  seems  to  be  suf- 
ficiently apparent  The  persecutions  and 
disabilities  of  Banyan's  days    had  already 


The  Pilgrims  pass  the  Lions. 


321 


Great.  It  is  the  King's  highway  that  we  are  in,  and  in  this  way 
it  is  that  thou  hast  placed  the  hons  ;  but  these  women  and  these 
children,  though  weak,  shall  hold  on  their  way  in  spite  of  the  lions. 
And  with  that  he  gave  him  again  a  downright  blow,  and  brought  him 
upon  his  knees.  With  this  blow  he  also  broke  his  helmet,  and  with 
the  next  cut  off  an  arm.  Then  did  the  giant  roar  so  hideously  that 
his  voice  frightened  the  women  ;  and  yet  they  were  glad  to  see  him  lie 
sprawling  upon  the  ground.  Now  the  lions  were  chained,  and  so  of 
themselves  could  do  nothing.  Wherefore,  when  old  Grim  that  in- 
tended to  back  them  was  dead,  Great-heart  said  to  the  pilgrims.  Come 
now,  and  follow  me,  and  no  hurt  shall  come  to  you  from  the  lions. 
They  therefore  went  on,  but  the  women  trembled  as  they  passed  by 
them  ;  the  boys  also  looked  as  if  tfiey  would  die  ;  but  they  all  got  by 
without  further  hurt. 


deterred  many  from  joining  themselves  in 
Christian  fellowship,  such  as  is  indicated  by 
the  intercourse  of  the  Palace  Beautiful,  The 
"  lions "  of  persecution,  backed  by  the 
"giant "hand  of  power,  during  that  un- 
happy period,  had  desolated  the  highways 
of  Christian  communion,  and  driven  back 
many  from  the  companionships  of  the  spirit- 
ual pilgrimage 

In  the  latter  days  of  Bunyan's  life,  the 
lions  of  persecution  were  "  chained,"  that  is, 
the  persecuting  laws  were  rendered  inop- 
erative ;  but  the  spirit  of  persecution  (Giant 
Grim)  still  remained,  sufficient  to  deter  the 
timid  and  faint-hearted  ones  from  trying  the 
pass.  It  needed  but  the  vigorous  effort  of 
some  Great-heart  of  the  period  to  clear 


the  path  for  the  liberty  of  after-ages  of  the 
Church. 

//  is  the  Kings  highivay. — Great-heart 
lacks  neither  words  nor  deeds  of  greatness. 
He  will  enjoy  for  himself,  and  will  have 
others  to  enjoy,  the  sweet  communion  of 
saints,  and  all  other  privileges  of  the  people 
of  God  ;  and  he  enforces  his  demands  be- 
cause he  is  on  the  highway  of  the  Lord  his 
King.  With  a  brave  heart  and  a  strong 
arm  (now  bearing  only  a  spiritual  interpre- 
tation) the  journeying  pilgrim  of  the  road 
must  be  a  hero  in  the  strife,  such  as  those 
great-hearted  men  of  old,  who  stopped  the 
mouths  of  lions,  and  laid  grim  giants  pros- 
trate on  the  battle-field. 


21 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Palace  Beautiful. 


The  sojourn  in  the  Palace  Beautiful,  as  described  in  the  narrative  of  the  former  Pil- 
grimage, was  characterized  by  all  that  was  "lovely  and  of  good  report"  in  the  provisior 
and  enjoyment  of  Christian  privilege  and  opportunity.  The  second  narrative  well  sustains 
the  reputation  of  that  fair  house  of  godly  communion  and  Christian  fellowship.  It  is  still, 
as  before,  a  privilege  so  exalted  as  to  be  guarded  by  an  ordeal  of  difficulty  in  the  entrance 
thereto,  lest  any  unworthy  pilgrims  should  cross  that  threshold  of  joy  and  peace. 

The  scenes  of  this  stage  of  the  journey  assume  a  more  famihar  character,  and  some- 
times are  so  quaint  as  to  be  almost  amusing.  The  catechising  of  the  children,  and  the  ready 
answers  of  the  boys;  Mercy's  courtship  with  Mr.  Brisk,  and  the  sudden  break-off  of  the 
suitor's  attentions  ;  Matthew's  illness,  its  cause,  and  its  cure  by  Mr.  Skill  ;  the  subsequent 
conversations ;  propounding  of  difficult  questions  ;  seeing  of  wondrous  sights,  and  breath- 
ing of  fervent  farewells — all  make  up  an  interesting,  entertaining,  and  instructive  chaptei 
of  the  Allegory  of  the  Dreamer. 

OW,  when  they  were  within  sight  of  the  porter's  lodge, 
they  soon  came  up  unto  it;  but  they  made  the  more 
haste  after  this  to  go  thither,  because  it  is  dangerous 
travelHng  there  in  the  night.  So  when  they  were  come 
to  the  gate,  the  guide  knocked,  and  the  porter  cried, 
Who  is  there  ?  But,  as  soon  as  the  guide  had  said,  It  is  I,  he  knew 
his  voice,  and  came  down  ;  for  the  guide  had  oft  before  that  come 
thither  as  a  conductor  of  pilgrims.  When  he  was  come  down,  he 
opened  the  gate,  and  seeing  the  guide  standing  just  before  it  (for  he 
saw  not  the  women,  for  they  were  behind  him),  he  said  unto  him, 
How  now,  Mr.  Great-heart,  what  is  your  business  here  so  late  at 
night?  I  have  brought,  said  he,  some  pilgrims  hither,  where,  by 
my  Lord's  commandment,  they  must  lodge.  I  had  been  here  some 
time  ago,  had  I  not  been  opposed  by  the  giant  that  used  to  back 
the  lions.  But  I,  after  a  long  and  tedious  combat  with  him,  have 
cut  him  off,  and  have  brought  the  pilgrims  hither  in  safety. 


Dangerous  travelling  in  the  night. — Yes, 
even  though  Great-heart  is  with  them,  as 
the  brave  conductor  of  the  way.  To  the 
strongest  and  the  best  equipped  there  is  no 


room  for  that  bravado  spirit  that  sees  no 
danger  and  knows  no  peril.  There  are 
times  when  even  Great-heart  is  safer  with- 
in the  shrine  of  his  great  Master's  house^ 


(322) 


The  Pilgrims  arrive  at  the  Palace  Beautiful.  323 

PoR.    Will  you  not  go  in  and  stay  till  morning  ? 

Great.    No,  I  will  return  to  my  Lord  to-night. 

Chr.    O  sir,  I  know   not  how  to  be  willing  you  should  leav^ 
us  in  our  pilgrimage  ;  you  have  been  so  faithful  and  so  loving  to  us, 
you  have  fought  so  stoutly  for  us,  you  have  been  so  hearty  in  coun 
selling  of  us,  that  I  shall  never  forget  your  favor  towards  us. 

Then  said  Mercy,  Oh,  that  we  might  have  thy  company  to  GUI' 
journey's  end  !  How  caa  such  poor  women  as  we  hold  out  in  a  way 
so  full  of  troubles  as  this  way  is,  without  a  friend  or  defender.? 

Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys.  Pray,  sir,  be  per^ 
suaded  to  go  with  us  and  help  us,  because  we  are  so  weak,  and  the 
way  so  dangerous  as  it  is. 

Great.  I  am  at  my  Lord's  commandment ;  if  he  shall  allof:  me 
to  be  your  guide  quite  through,  I  will  willingly  wait  upon  you.  But 
here  you  failed  at  first ;  for,  when  he  bid  me  come  thus  far  with  you, 
then  you  should  have  begged  me  of  him  to  have  gone  quite  through 
with  you,  and  he  would  have  granted  your  request.  However,  at 
present  I  must  withdraw;  and  so,  good  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  my 
b-'av^;  children,  adieu  ! 

Then  the  porter,  Mr.  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of  her  country 
and  of  her  kindred  ;  and  she  said,  I  come  from  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion ;  I  am  a  widow-woman,  and  my  husband  is  dead  ;  his  name  was 
Christian,  the  pilgrim.  How!  said  the  porter,  was  he  your  husband? 
Yes,  said  she,  and  these  are  his  children  ;  and  this  (pointing  to 
Mercy)  is  one  of  my  townswomen.  Then  the  porter  rang  his  bell, 
as  at  such  times  he  is  wont,  and  there  came  to  the  door  one  of  the 
damsels,  whose  name  was  Humble-mind.  And  to  her  the  portei 
said,  Go  tell  it  within,  that  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  and  her 
children,  are  come  hither  on  pilgrimage.  She  went  in,  therefore, 
and  told  it.  But  oh  '  what  noise  for  gladness  was  therein,  when  the 
damsel  did  but  drop  that  out  of  her  mouth  ! 


seasons  of  darkness,  the  midnights  that  fol-  j  terpreter's  House:  "  Conduct  them,"  said 
low  after  our  best  and  brightest  days,  during  |  his  Lord,  "to  the  house  called  Beautiful." 
which  we  are  reminded  that  we  are  not  yet   !    The  Holy  Spirit  gives  "grace  by  measuie,' 


at  home,  but  are  still  in  the  weary  wilderness 
"  I  loill  return  to-ttigk/." —A\a.?,\  evil  tid 
ings  on  the  very  threshold  of  enjoyment ! 


and  according  to  our  asking.  We  must  ask, 
and  then  we  receive ;  we  must  ask  for  large 
things  and  for  long-continued  blessings,  else 


(iREAr-HFART    is    bidding   them    farewell!       we  must  not  expect  to  receive  largely.    And 


Having  thus  far  conducted  his  company,  he 
must  now  return  to  his  Lord  for  fresh  instruc- 
tion and  another  mission.     He  has  fulfilled 


herein  was  Christiana's  double  mistake  :  m 
the  first  place,  she  had  not  asked  at  all ;  and 
in  the  next,  she  had  not  asked  enough.    Ac- 


the  commission  he  had  received  at  the  In-  '   cordingly,  at  the  outset  she  was  granted  no 


1 


D 

H 
D 
< 

W 
fQ 

W 
U 
< 

< 

w 

H 
< 

O 

u 
_1 

w 


The  Pilgrims    Ktnaty  Receptiori. 


325 


So  they  came  with  haste  to  the  porter,  for  Christiana  stood  still 
at  the  door.  Then  some  of  the  most  grave  said  unto  her,  Come  in, 
Christiana ;  come  in,  thou  wife  of  that  good  man  ;  come  in,  thou 
blessed  woman,  come  in,  with  all  that  are  with  thee.  So  she  went  in, 
and  they  followed  her  that  were  her  children  and  her  companions. 
Now  when  they  were  gone  in  they  were  had  into  a  large  room,  and  bid 
to  sit  down  ;  so  they  sat  down,  and  the  chief  of  the  house  were  called 
to  see  and  welcome  the  guests.  Then  they  came  in,  and,  under- 
standing who  they  were,  did  salute  each  other  with  a  kiss,  and  said, 
Welcome,  ye  vessels  of  the  grace  of  God,  welcome  unto  us  who  are 
your  faithful  friends. 

Now,  because  it  was  somewhat  late,  and  because  the  pilgrims 
were  weary  with  their  journey,  and  also  made  faint  with  the  sight  of 
the  fight  and  the  terrible  lions,  they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be,  to 
prepare  to  go  to  rest.  Nay,  said  those  of  the  family,  refresh  your- 
selves with  a  morsel  of  meat;  for  they  had  prepared  for  them  a  lamb, 
with  the  accustomed  sauce  thereto  (Exod.  12:3;  John  i :  29).  For 
the  porter  had  heard  before  of  their  coming,  and  had  told  it  to  them 
within.  So  when  they  had  supped  and  ended  their  prayer  with  a 
psalm,  they  desired  that  they  might  go  to  rest.  But  let  us,  said 
Christiana,  if  we  may  be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be  in  that  chamber 
that  was  my  husband's  when  he  was  here.  So  they  had  them  up 
thither,  and  they  all  lay  in  a  room.  When  they  were  at  rest,  Chris- 
tiana and  Mercy  entered  into  discourse  about  things  that  were  con- 
venient. 


convoy  for  the  road,  and  when  she  did  re- 
ceive the  gift,  it  was  but  for  a  single  stage — 
she  had  asked  no  more.  Thus  does  God 
experimentally  teach  his  children  to  feel 
their  wants  and  to  pray  for  needful  supplies  ; 
and  when  they  ask,  he  means  that  they 
should  ask  liberal  things  of  him  that  giveth 
liberally,  and  upbraideth  not. 

What  noise  for  f^ladness. — The  greatness 
of  their  need  is  only  equalled,  perhaps  sur- 
passed, by  the  greatness  of  the  welcome  they 
receive.  If  men  did  but  know  the  thousand 
welcomes  that  await  them  on  the  road  to 
heaven,  would  they  not  gladly  leave  their  sin 
and  follow  Christ  ?  All  along  the  road  are 
friendly  greetings,  Christian  welcomes,  and 
kindly  gratulations.  Thus  the  Pilgrims  go 
on  "from  strength  to  strength,"  from  stage 
to  stage  ;  and  all  along  and  everywhere  they 


are  entertained  by  the  Lord  of  the  Hill,  who 
graciously  provides  helps,  rests,  and  all  other 
things  that  are  necessary  for  the  refreshment 
of  the  weary. 

The  great  gladness  expressed  on  this  oc- 
casion was  on  account  of  the  fact  that,  by 
the  arrival  of  this  company,  the  Christian 
family  was  completed.  If  there  be  joy  in 
heaven  over  any  one  member  that  is  brough'' 
to  Jesus,  there  is  greater  joy  when  other 
members  of  the  family  follow,  and  yet 
greater  gladness  if  the  family  circle  is  wholly 
given  to  Christ.  Besides,  the  fair  inhabitants 
of  the  palace  had  already  taken  an  interest 
in  Christian  personally,  and  had  made 
special  inquiries  about  his  family.  He  had 
at  that  time  no  good  report  to  give  respect- 
ing them ;  but  now  his  wife  and  children 
present    themselves  as  candidates    for   th» 


326 


The  Pilgrim  s  Pj'ogress. 


Chr.  Little  did  I  think  once,  when  my  husband  went  on  pilgrim- 
age, that  I  should  ever  have  followed  him. 

Mer.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed,  and  in  his 
chamber  to  rest  as  you  do  now. 

Chr.  And  much  less  did  I  ever  tliink  of  seeing  his  face  with 
comfort,  and  of  worshipping  the  Lord  the  King  with  him ;  and  yet 
I  believe  I  shall. 

Mer.    Hark  !  don't  you  hear  a  noise  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  it  is,  as  I  believe,  a  noise  of  music  for  that  we  are 
here. 

Mer.  Wonderful !  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the  heart,  and 
music  also  in  heaven,  for  the  joy  that  we  are  here ! 

Thus  they  talked  a  while,  and  then  betook  themselves  to  sleep. 
So  in  the  morning  when  they  awaked,  Christiana  said  to  Mercy, 
What  was  the  matter  that  you  did  laugh  in  your  sleep  to-night?  I 
suppose  you  was  in  a  dream. 


So  I  was,  and  a  sweet  dream  it  was  ;  but  are  you  sure  I 
Yes;  you  laughed  heartily.     But  pr'ythee,  Mercy,  tell  me 


Mer. 

laughed  ? 

Chr. 
thy  dream 

Mer.  I  was  dreaming  that  I  sat  alone  in  a  solitary  place,  and 
was  bemoaning  of  the  hardness  of  my  heart.  Now  I  had  not  sat 
there  long,  but  methought  many  were  gathered  about  me  to  see  me, 
and  to  hear  what  it  was  that  I  said.  So  they  hearkened,  and  I  went 
on  bemoaning  the  hardness  of  my  heart.  At  this  some  of  them 
laughed  at  me,  some  called  me  a  fool,  and  some  began  to  thrust  me 


same  communion  of  saints  which  Christian 
had  so  largely  enjoyed  during  his  sojourn  in 
this  fair  dwelling-place.  This  makes  the 
damsels  glad.  All  the  graces  of  the  Spirit 
are  made  stronger  and  more  permanent,  in 
proportion  as  they  are  enjoyed  and  culti- 
vated in  the  genial  atmosphere  of  the  Chris- 
tian home  and  family. 

When  they  ivere  at  rest. — Upon  their  own 
petition  they  were  permitted  to  choose  the 
Chamber  Peace,  in  which  Christian  had 
slept  during  his  visit  to  the  palace.  Bunyan 
has  introduced  a  side-note  here,  which  is 
suggestive  of  profitable  thoughts.  He  writes, 
"  Christ's  bosom  is  for  all  pilgrims."  Yes, 
the  resting-place  of  the  Christian  is  on 
Jesus'  breast;  that  is,  indeed,  the  Chamber 
of  true  Peace,  where  this  soft  pillow  may  be 


found  on  which  to  lay  the  aching  head,  and 
be  at  rest — even  upon  our  good  Father's 
bosom. 

Mercy,  tell  me  thy  dream. — Mercy  dreams 
a  dream,  which  contains,  within  a  few  sen- 
tences, the  cross  of  many,  and  dissolves 
away  into  the  glory  of  their  crown.  It  was 
a  dream  well  suited  to  the  case  of  one  like 
Mercv,  who  has  been  the  only  member  of 
her  family,  as  yet,  to  undertake  the  pilgrim' 
age.  Such  lonely  and  solitary  ones — wit- 
nesses for  Christ  in  the  midst  of  home  dis- 
couragements— surely,  they  may  take  cour- 
age by  the  example  of  Mercy;  her  dream 
may  be  their  reality.  They  are,  perhaps, 
sore  hindered  in  their  way,  laughed  at, 
mocked  and  ridiculed.  This,  no  doubt,  was 
Mercy's  case ;  this  the  cross  she  had  to  bear 


Mercy  tells  her  Dream. 


32; 


ibout.     With  that  methought  I  looked  up,  and  saw  one  coming  witl 
fving-s  towards  me.     So  he  came  directly  to  me,  and  said,  Merc\ 
wliat  aileth  thee?    Now,  when  he  had  heard  me  make  my  complaint 
he  said,  Peace  be  to  thee  ;  he  also  wiped  mine  eyes  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold.     He  put  a  chain  upon  m\ 
neck,  and  earrings  in  my  ears,  and  a  beautiful  crown  upon  my   head 
(Ezek.  i6  :  8-13).  Then  he  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  Mercy 
come  after  me.      So  he  went  up,  and  I  followed,  till  we  came  at  a 
golden  gate.     Then  he  knocked  ;  and,  when  they  within  had  opened, 
the  man  went  in,  and  I  followed  him  up  to  a  throne,  upon  which  one 
sat,  and  he  said  to  me.  Welcome,  daughter.     The  place  looked  bright 
and  twinkling,  like  the  stars,  or  rather  like  the  sun,  and  I  thought 
that  I  saw  your  husband  there.     So  I  awoke  from  my  dream.     But 
did  I  laugh  ? 

Chr.  Laugh  !  aye,  well  you  might,  to  see  yourself  so  well.  For 
you  must  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that  it  was  a  good  dream  ;  and 
that,  as  you  have  begun  to  find  the  first  part  true,  so  you  shall  find 
the  second  at  last.  "  God  speaks  once,  yea  twice,  yet  man  perceiveth 
it  not.  In  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth 
upon  men,  in  slumbering  upon  the  bed"  (Job  33  :  14,  15).  We  need 
not,  when  in  bed,  to  lie  awake  to  talk  with  God  ;  he  can  visit  us 
while  we  sleep,  and  cause  us  to  hear  his  voice.  Our  heart  ofttimes 
wakes  when  we  sleep;  and  God  can  speak  to  that,  either  by  words, 
by  proverbs,  by  signs  and  similitudes,  as  well  as  if  one  was  awake. 

Mer.  Well,  1  am  glad  of  my  dream,  for  I  hope  ere  long  to  see 
it  fulfilled,  to  the  making  me  laugh  again. 

Chr.  I  think  it  is  now  high  time  to  rise,  and  to  know  what  we 
must  do. 

Mer.  Pray,  if  they  advise  us  to  stay  a  while,  let  us  willingly  ac- 
cept of  the  proffer.  I  am  the  willinger  to  stay  a  while  here,  to  ghow 
better  acquainted  with  these  maids ;  methinks,  Prudence,  Piety,  and 
Charity  have  very  comely  and  sober  countenances. 

Chr.  We  shall  see  what  they  will  do.  So,  when  they  were  up 
and  ready,  they  came  down,  and  they  asked  one  another  of  their 
rest,  and  if  it  was  comfortable  or  not. 


at  home,  else  she  had  not  dreamed  this 
dream.  But  she  sought  Christian  fellowship 
elsewhere,  and  found  it  in  the  company  of 
her  friend,  and  now  enjoys  a  high  festival 
of  4uch  holy  gladness  in  the  communion  of 


the  Palace.  Here  she  seems  to  see  the 
pecuUar  cross  she  has  to  bear,  and  how  it 
changes  into  the  crown  of  glory,  as,  in  her 
dream,  she  is  lifted  to  the  throne  of  Hght; 
and  she  that  finds  no  sympathy  in  her  home 


328 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Very  good,  said  Mercy;  it  was  one  of  the  best  night's  lodgings 
that  ever  I  had  in  my  Hfe. 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  If  you  will  be  persuaded  to  stay 
here  a  while,  you  shall  have  what  the  house  will  afford. 

Aye,  and  that  with  a  very  good  will,  said  Charity,  So  they  con- 
sented, and  stayed  there  for  about  a  month  or  above,  and  became 
very  profitable  one  to  another.  And  because  Prudence  would  see 
how  Christiana  had  brought  up  her  children,  she  asked  leave  of  her 
to  catechise  them  ;  so  she  gave  her  free  consent.  Then  she  began 
with  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  James.  And  she  said,  Come, 
James,  canst  thou  tell  me  who  made  thee  ? 

Jam.    God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.    Good  boy.     And  canst  thou  tell  who  saves  thee  ? 

Jam.    God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.    Good  boy  still.    But  how  doth  God  the  Father  save  thee? 

Jam.    By  his  grace. 

Prud.    How  doth  God  the  Son  save  thee  ? 

Jam.    By  his  righteousness,  death,  and  blood  and  life. 

Prud.    And  how  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee  ? 

Jam.  By  his  illumination,  by  his  renovation,  and  by  his  preser- 
vation. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  You  are  to  be  commended 
for  thus  bringing  up  your  children.  I  suppose  I  need  not  ask  the 
rest  these  questions,  since  the  youngest  of  them  can  answer  them 
so  well.     I  will  therefore  now  apply  myself  to  the  next  youngest. 

Then  she  said.  Come,  Joseph  (for  his  name  was  Joseph),  will 
you  let  me  catechise  you  ? 

Jos.    With  all  my  heart. 

Prud.   What  is  man  ? 


on  earth,  now  finds  the  sympathy  of  her 
home  in  heaven,  and  hears  her  heavenly 
Father's  voice  address  her,  saying — "  Wel- 
come, daughter ! " 

Stayed  there  about  a  month. — The  com- 
munion of  saints  ought  to  be  ofttimes  en- 
joyed, or  else  for  a  long  time  together.    The 
heart  has  a  natural  tendency  to  decline  from 
"^race,  and  to  decay  in  Christian  strength. 
Christian  intercourse  is  as  the  dew  of  heaven 
0  the  soul ;  it  is  as  the  fatness  of  the  earth 
Lthe  hidden  root ;  it  is  as  the  supply  of  oil 


to  the  expiring  lamp.  Long  continuance  in 
these  blessed  opportunities  is  profitable  to 
the  soul's  health  and  increase. 

The  catechising. — This  is  designed  not 
only  to  test  the  amount  of  the  children's 
attainments  in  religious  truth,  but  also  to  test 
the  faithfulness  of  Christiana,  as  a  Chris 
tian  mother,  in  the  education  of  her  children. 
Great  responsibility  devolves  upon  the 
mothers  of  our  Israel,  as  to  how  they  per- 
form this  great  duty.  Maternal  influence  is 
that  which  chiefly  contributes  to  the  forma- 


Prudence  commends  Christiana, 


329 


PRUDENCE  CATECHISES  THE  BOYS. 


said. 


Jos,   A  reasonable  creature,  made  so  by  God,  as  my  brother 


Prud.    What  is  supposed  by  this  word  saved? 

Jos.  That  man  by  sin  has  brought  himself  into  a  state  of  cap- 
tivity and  misery. 

Prud.    What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the  Trinity? 

Jos.  That  sin  Is  so  great  and  mighty  a  tyrant,  that  none  can 
pull  us  out  of  Its  clutches  but  God  ;  and  that  God  is  so  good  and 
loving  to  man,  as  to  pull  him  indeed  out  of  his  miserable  state. 

Prud.   What  is  God's  design  in  saving  poor  man  ? 

Jos.  The  glorifying  of  his  name,  of  his  grace,  and  justice,  etc.. 
and  the  everlasting  happiness  of  his  creature. 


tion  of  the  habits  of  children  ;  and,  in  a 
gre.'.t  measure,  the  spiritual  education  of  the 
young  belongs  to  a  mother's  care.  In  this 
case.  Christiana  had  well  discharged  her 
responsibilities. 

The  manner  of  the  catechising  is  worthy 


of  notice.  Prudence  is  the  catechist.  The 
questions  proposed  are  adapted  to  the  ages 
and  capacities  of  the  children.  Beginning 
with  the  youngest  child,  and  with  the  most 
elementary  Christian  truths,  she  advances 
to  higher  principles  as  she  passes  on  to  the 


330 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Prud,    Who  are  they  that  must  be  saved  ? 

Jos.   Those  that  accept  of  his  salvation, 

Prud.  Good  boy,  Joseph ;  thy  mother  hath  taught  thee  well; 
and  thou  hast  hearkened  to  what  she  has  said  unto  thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel  (who  was  the  eldest  son  but 
one),  Come,  Samuel,  are  you  willing  that  I  should  catechise  you  also  ? 

Sam.    Yes,  forsooth,  if  you  please. 

Prud.    What  is  heaven  ? 

Sam.  a  place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God  dwelleth 
there. 

Prud.    What  is  hell  ? 

Sam.  a  place  and  state  most  woful,  because  it  is  the  dwelling- 
place  of  sin,  the  devil,  and  death. 

Prud.    Why  wouldst  thou  go  to  heaven  ? 

Sam.  That  I  may  see  God,  and  serve  him  without  weariness  ; 
that  I  may  see  Christ,  and  love  him  everlastingly;  that  I  may  have 
that  fulness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  me,  that  I  can  by  no  means  here 
enjoy. 

Prud.    A  very  good  boy  also,  and  one  that  has  learned  well. 

Then  she  addressed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose  name  was 
Matthew;  and  she  said  to  him,  Come,  Matthew,  shall  I  also  catechise 
you  ? 

Matt.   With  a  very  good  will. 

Prud.  I  ask,  then,  if  there  ever  was  anything  that  had  a  being 
antecedent  to,  or  before,  God  ? 

Matt.  No;  for  God  is  eternal  ;  nor  is  there  anything,  excepting 
himself,  that  had  a  being  until  the  beginning  of  the  first  day  :  "  For 
in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in 
them  is." 

Prud.    What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible  ? 

Matt.  It  is  the  holy  Word  of  God. 


elder  boys.  This  is  an  important  element 
in  the  art  of  catechising.  In  examining,  as 
in  teaching,  the  order  must  be — milk  for 
babes,  and  strong  meat  for  those  of  riper 
age  and  larger  powers. 

The  subject-matter  of  the  examination, 
also,  demands  attention.  The  questions  are 
all  on  essential  doctrines  The  answers  are 
prompt  and  ready,  and  pointed  too,  even 
to  quaintness.  The  fundumental  verities  of 
the  Christian  faith  are  introduced  even  in 


the  more  elementary  catechising  ;  and  the 
youngest  of  the  children  is  able  to  express 
himself  on  the  subject  of  grace  and  right-  '■ 
eousness  and  sanctification.  Bunyan  thus 
shows  the  importance  of  instructing  even  the 
youngest  in  the  essentials  of  Christianity. 
He  so  sets  forth  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
and  the  offices  of  the  Three  Divine  Persons 
respectively,  as  that  even  a  little  child  should 
know  them. 

The  progressive  character  of  this  catechis- 


Prudence  catechises  MattJiew.  331 

pRUD.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein  but  what  you  under- 
stand? 

Matf.    Yes,  a  great  deal. 

Prud.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  such  places  therein 
that  you  do  not  understand  ? 

Matf.  I  think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I  pray  also  that  he  will  please 
to  let  me  know  all  therein  that  he  knows  will  be  for  my  good. 

Prud.  How  believe  you  as  touching  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  ? 

Matt.  I  believe  they  shall  rise,  the  same  that  was  buried  ;  the 
same  in  nature  though  not  in  corruption.  And  I  believe  this  upon  a 
double  account :  first,  because  God  has  promised  it ;  secondly,  because 
he  is  able  to  perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys.  You  must  still  harken  to  your 
mother,  for  she  can  teach  you  more.  You  must  also  diligently  give 
ear  to  what  good  talk  you  shall  hear  from  others,  as  for  your  sakes 
do  they  speak  good  things.  Observe  also,  and  that  with  carefulness, 
what  the  heavens  and  the  earth  do  teach  you  ;  butespecially  be  much 
in  the  meditation  of  that  book  which  was  the  cause  of  your  father's 
becoming  a  pilgrim.  I,  for  my  part,  my  children,  will  teach  you  what 
I  can  while  you  are  here,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  ask  me  ques- 
tions that  tend  to  godly  edifying. 

Now  by  that  the  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place  a  week,  Mercy 
had  a  visitor,  that  pretended  some  good-will  unto  her,  and  his  name 
was  Mr.  Brisk,  a  man  of  some  breeding,  and  that  pretended  to 
religion,  but  a  man  that  stuck  very  close  to  the  world.  So  he  came 
once  or  twice,  or  more,  to  Mercy,  and  offered  love  unto  her.  Now 
Mercy  was  of  a  fair  countenance,  and  therefore  the  more  alluring. 
Her  mind  also  was  to  be  always  busying  of  herself  in  doing  ;  for  when 


ing  conducts  us  from  the  simpler  to  the 
more  abstruse  subjects  of  Christian  doctrine. 
For  example  :  the  youngest  is  examined  in 
the  plan  of  salvation,  through  the  joint 
offices  and  individual  work  of  the  Trinity  in 
Unity ;  the  next  in  age  is  examined  as  to  the 
nature  of  man  and  the  philosophy  of  the 
scheme  of  redemption  ;  the  elder  than  he 
must  tell  somewhat  respecting  the  world  to 
come,  and  our  relationship  to  its  eternal 
destinies  ;  while  the  eldest  is  catechised  in 
the  more  abstract  topics  of  religion — the 
nature  of  God,  the  character  of  the  Bible, 


cessity  of  Divine  faith,  concluding  with  a 
question  and  answer  concerning  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead. 

Prudence  is  pleased  with  the  progress  of 
the  children,  and  commends  them  to  the 
further  care  of  their  pious  and  devoted 
mother.  They  are  to  learn  from  the  open 
book  of  Nature,  but,  above  all,  to  receive 
their  chiefest  instruction  from  the  unfolded 
book  of  God's  revelation  to  man. 

Mr.  Brisk. — This  character  introduces  one 
of  the  amusing,  but  yet  instructive,  incidents 
of  the  narrative.     This  Second  Allegory  de- 


the  Umits  of  man's  understanding,  the  ne-  (    sccnds  to  the  concerns  of  ordinary  life,  and, 

S 


'V> 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


she  had  nothing  to  do  for  herself,  she  would  be  making  hose  and 
garments  for  others,  and  would  bestow  them  upon  those  that  had 
need.  And  Mr.  Brisk,  not  knowing  where  or  how  she  disposed  ol 
what  she  made,  seemed  to  be  greatly  taken,  for  that  he  found  her 
never  idle.  I  will  warrent  her  a  good  housewife,  quoth  he  to 
himself 

Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that  were  oi 
the  house,  and  inquired  of  them  concerning  him,  for  they  did  know 
him  better  than  she.  So  they  told  her  that  he  was  a  very  busy 
young  man,  and  one  that  pretended  to  religion,  but  was,  as  they 
feared,  a  stranger  to  the  power  of  that  which  is  good. 

Nay,  then,  said  Mercy,  I  will  look  no  more  on  him,  for  I  purpose 
never  to  have  a  clog  on  my  soul. 

Prudence  then  replied  that  there  needed  no  great  matter  of  dis- 
couragement to  be  given  to  him  ;  for  continuing  so,  as  she  had  begun 
to  do  for  the  poor,  would  quickly  cool  his  courage. 

So  the  next  time  he  comes  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work,  a  mak- 
ing of  things  for  the  poor.  Then  said  he.  What!  always  at  it?  Yes, 
said  she,  either  for  myself  or  for  others.  And  what  canst  thou  earn 
a  day?  quoth  he.  I  do  these  things, she  replied, that  I  may  be  "rich 
in  good  works,  laying  up  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come, 
that  I  may  lay  hold  of  eternal  life"  (i  Tim.  6:  17-19).  Why,  pr'y- 
thee,  what  dost  thou  do  with  them  ?  said  he.  Clothe  the  naked,  said 
she.  With  that  his  countenance  fell.  So  he  forbore  to  come  to  her 
again.  And  when  he  was  asked  the  reason  why,  he  said  that  Mercy 
was  a  pretty  lass,  but  troubled  with  ill  conditions. 

When  he  had  left  her,  Prudence  said.  Did  I  not  tell  thee  that 
Mr.  Brisk  would  soon  forsake  thee?  yea,  he  will  raise  up  an  evil  re- 
port of  thee  ;  for.  notwithstanding  his  pretence  to  religion,  and  his 
seeming  love  to  Mercy,  yet  mercy  and  he  are  of  tempers  so  different, 
that  I  believe  they  will  never  come  together. 

Mer.    I  might  have  had  husbands  before  now,  though  I  spoke 


accordingly,  includes  a  scene  of  courtship, 
in  order  to  illustrate,  in  the  person  of  Mr. 
Brisk,  the  choice  of  worldly  wisdom,  and, 
in  the  character  of  Mercy,  how  a  Christian 
maiden  determines  to  marry  only  "  in  the 
Lord."  To  young  persons,  this  scene  con- 
tains a  pointed  moral  and  a  practical  ex- 
ample worthy  of  being  attended  to. 

Mr.  Bkisk  is  that  character  of  young  man, 


so  often  seen  in  society,  that  has  discern- 
ment  enough  to  know  what  constitutes  a 
good  housewife,  and,  seeing  in  such  an  one 
as  Mercy  the  combination  of  beauty,  indus- 
try, and  religion,  determines  to  set  his  heart 
upon  her,  for  the  worldly  gain  that  such 
connection  seems  to  promise  and  insure. 
Mercy,  perceiving  these  approaches,  acts  a 
wise  part,  by  making  inquiry  respecting  Mr 


MR.  BRISK  AND  MERCY. 


333 


334 


The  Pilgidnis  Progress. 


not  of  it  to  any ;  but  they  were  such  as  did  not  Hke  my  conditions 
though  never  did  any  of  them  find  fault  with  my  person.  So  they 
and  I  could  not  agree. 

Prud.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  little  set  by,  any  further  than  as  to 
its  name ;  the  practice  which  is  set  forth  by  the  conditions,  there  are 
few  that  can  abide. 

Well,  said  Mercy,  if  nobody  will  have  me,  I  will  die  a  maid,  or 
my  conditions  shall  be  to  me  as  a  husband ;  for  I  cannot  change  my 
nature  ;  and  to  have  one  that  lies  cross  to  me  in  this,  that  I  purpose 
never  to  admit  of  as  long  as  I  live.  I  had  a  sister  named  Bountiful, 
married  to  one  of  these  churls  ;  but  he  and  she  could  never  agree ; 
but  because  my  sister  was  resolved  to  do  as  she  had  begun,  that  is,  to 
show  kindness  to  the  poor,  therefore  her  husband  first  cried  her 
down  at  the  cross,  and  then  turned  her  out  of  his  doors. 

Prud.    And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  I  warrant  you. 

Mer,  Yes,  such  a  one  as  he  was,  and  of  such  as  the  world  is  now 
full ;  but  I  am  for  none  of  them  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick,  and  his 
sickness  was  sore  upon  him,  for  he  was  much  pained  in  his  bowels, 
so  that  he  was  with  it,  at  times,  pulled,  as  it  were,  both  ends  together, 
There  dwelt  also  not  far  from  thence  one  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  anc/ 
well-approved  physician.  So  Christiana  desired  it,  and  they  sent  foi 
him,  and  he  came.  When  he  had  entered  the  room,  and  had  a  little 
observed  the  boy,  he  concluded  that  he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.  Then 
he  said  to  his  mother.  What  diet  hath  Matthew  of  late  fed  upon  ? 
Diet,  said  Christiana  ;  nothing  but  what  is  wholesome.  The  physi- 
cian answered,  This  boy  has  been  tampering  with  something  that  lies 
in  his  maw  undigested,  and  that  will  not  away  without  means  ;  and  I 
tell  you  he  must  be  purged,  or  else  he  will  die. 


Brisk.  The  result  is  that  she  learns  his 
character  and  aims.  He  thinks  that  this 
industry  of  Mercy  is  for  the  market  of 
earthly  gain  ;  and  when  he  is  informed  that, 
like  Dorcas  of  old,  this  fair  Christian  maiden, 
having  the  root  of  faith,  desires  to  be  rich  in 
good  works  and  fruitful  in  godly  labors,  he 
I  lias  learned  enough  to  prove  that  the  spirit- 
I  ually-taught  character  of  Mercy  would  but 
ill  suffice  to  satisfy  his  greed  of  gain  and 
worldly-wise  policy.  So  he  withdraws  from 
the  scene  ;  and  Mercy,  by  her  consistent 
resolution,    illustrates    the    counsel    o^    the 


Word  :  "  Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  together 
with  unbelievers  "  (2  Cor.  6:  14). 

Now  Matthew  fell  sick. — Here,  again,  is  a 
quaint  scene,  but  true  to  the  letter.  It  is 
also  well  told,  and  in  full  detail,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  period.     The  moral  is  this : 

Matthew  was  sin-sick ;  an  internal  dis- 
ease had  been  engendered  by  some  sin  which 
he  had  committed,  and  by  reason  of  which 
"the  whole  head  was  sick,  the  whole  heart 
faint." 

The  cause  of  this  sickness.  Sin  takes  root 
in  the  heart  and  conscience,  but  does  not 


Matthew's  Sickness.  33t 

Then  said  Samuel,  Mother,  what  was  that  which  my  brother  did 
gather  and  eat,  so  soon  as  we  were  come  from  the  gate  that  is  at 
the  head  of  this  way  ?  You  know  that  there  was  an  orchard  on  the 
left  hand,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  and  some  of  the  trees  hung 
over  the  wall,  and  my  brother  did  pluck  and  did  eat. 

True,  my  child,  said  Christiana  ;  he  did  take  thereof,  and  did 
eat ;  naughty  boy  as  he  was  ;  I  chid  him,  and  yet  he  would  eat 
thereof. 

Skill.  I  knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  not  wholesome 
food  ;  and  that  food,  to  wit,  that  fruit  is  even  the  most  hurtful  of  all. 
It  is  the  fruit  of  Beelzebub's  orchard.  I  do  marvel  that  none  did 
warn  you  of  it ;  many  have  died  thereof. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  cry;  and  she  said,  O  naughty  boy! 
and  O  careless  mother!  what  shall  I  do  for  my  son? 

Skill.  Come,  do  not  be  too  dejected ;  the  boy  may  do  well 
again,  but  he  must  purge  and  vomit. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him,  whatever 
it  costs. 

Skill.  Nay,  I  hope  I  shall  be  reasonable.  So  he  made  him  a 
purge,  but  it  was  too  weak  ;  'twas  said  it  was  made  of  the  blood  of 
a  goat,  the  ashes  of  a  heifer,  and  with  some  of  the  juice  of  hyssop, 
etc.  (Heb.  9:  13-19;  10:  1-4).  When  Mr.  Skill  had  seen  that  that 
purge  was  too  weak,  he  made  him  one  to  the  purpose ;  it  was  made 
Ex  came  et  sajigiiine  Chris ti  (John  6:  54-57;  Heb.  9:  14)  (you 
know  physicians  give  strange  medicines  to  their  patients)  ;  and  it 
was  made  up  into  pills,  with  a  promise  or  two,  and  a  proportionable 
quantity  of  salt.  Now  he  was  to  take  them  three  at  a  time,  fasting. 
in  half  a  quarter  of  a  pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance.  When  this 
potion  was  prepared,  and  brought  to  the  boy,  he  was  loath  to  take 


always  at  the  moment  produce  its  evil  results. 
Here,  a  season  (how  long,  we  know  not,  but 
an  appreciable  interval)  had  elapsed,  so  that 
at  first  It.  was  hard  to  say  what  overt  act  or 
presumptuous  deed  had  given  cause  to  such 
distpiietude.  On  inquiry,  however,  the  bv- 
gone  sin  is  brought  to  remembrance — the 
eating  of  the  fiuit  of  the  trees  that  did  over- 


and  the  cause  being  discovered  by  Mr.  Skill, 
he  had  but  to  apply  this  remedy.  He  first 
administers  it  in  a  weak  and  modified  form, 
the  allusion  being  to  the  remedy  of  the  law, 
which  was  Christ  in  type  and  shadow,  of  use 
only  to  those  who  looked  through  the  type 
to  Christ,  who  was  typified  thereby.  Buttlie 
medicine  of  the  law  is  weak  ;   the  strong  and 


h-aiig  the  A-ay  at  the  Wicket-gate.     Sin  is  an   \   sufficient  remedy  must  be  found   in  Christ, 


evil  seed,  and,  when  planted,  it  springs  up, 

sooner  or  later,  prolific  of  its  own  bitter  fruit. 

The  cure  of  the  sickness.     For  the  one 

cause  of  evil  there  is  but  the  one  remedy ; 


revealed,  manifested,  and  offered  up  for  sin. 
Hence  the  potent  cure  prescribed  is  "the 
body  and  blood  of  Christ,"  spiritually  re- 
ceived, as  the  balm  for  the  sin-sick  soul. 


336 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


it,  though  torn  with  the  gripes  as  if  he  should  be  pulled  to  pieces. 
Come,  come,  said  the  physician,  you  must  take  it.  It  goes  against 
my  stomach,  said  the  boy.  1  must  have  you  take  it,  said  his  mother 
(Mark  9  :  49  ;  Zech,  12  :  10).  I  shall  vomit  it  up  again,  said  the  boy. 
Pray,  sir,  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Skill,  how  does  it  taste?  It  has  no 
ill  taste,  said  the  doctor  ;  and  with  that  she  touched  one  of  the  pills 
with  the  tip  of  her  tongue.  O  Matthew,  said  she,  this  potion  is 
sweeter  than  honey.  If  thou  lovest  thy  mother,  if  thou  lovest  thy 
brothers,  if  thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou  lovest  thy  life,  take  it.  So 
with  much  ado,  after  a  short  prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  it, 
he  took  it,  and  it  wrought  kindly  with  him.  It  caused  him  to  purge,  to 
sleep,  and  to  rest  quietly  ;  it  put  him  into  a  fine  heat  and  breathing 
sweat,  and  rid  him  of  his  gripes. 

So  in  a  little  time  he  got  up,  and  walked  about  with  a  staff,  and 
would  go  from  room  to  room,  and  talk  with  Prudence,  Piety  and 
Charity  of  his  distemper,  and  how  he  was  healed. 

So  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr.  Skill,  saying. 
Sir,  what  will  content  you  for  your  care  and  pains  to  me,  and  of  my 
child?  And  he  said,  You  must  pay  the  master  of  the  College  of 
Physicians,  according  to  rules  made  in  that  case  and  provided  (Heb. 

But,  sir,  said  she,  what  is  this  pill  good  for  else  ? 

Skill.  It  is  a  universal  pill ;  it  is  good  against  all  diseases  that 
pilgrims  are  incident  to,  and,  when  it  is  well  prepared,  will  keep 
good  time  out  of  mind. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  make  up  twelve  boxes  of  them  ;  for,  if  I  can 
get  these,  I  will  never  take  other  physic. 

Skill.  These  pills  are  good  to  prevent  diseases,  as  well  as  to 
cure  when  one  is  sick.  Yea,  I  dare  say  it  and  stand  to  it,  that  if  a 
man  will  but  use  this  physic  as  he  should,  it  will  make  him  live  for 
ever  (John  6:  51).  But,  good  Christiana,  thou  must  give  these  pills 
no  other  way  but  as  I  have  prescribed ;  for  if  you  do  they  will  do  no 


There  is  a  graceful  modesty  in  Bunyan's 
character  displayed  here.  He  records  the 
prescription  in  Latin,  after  the  fashion  of 
physicians;  but,  being  himself  illiterate  in 
this  world's  learning,  he  apologizes  for  the 
use  of  these  Latin  words,  observing  in  a  side- 
note,  "The  Latin  1  borrow" — an  incident 
illustrating  the  genuine  spirit  of  the  man. 

There  is  much  spiritual  significance  in  the 


sequel — the  manner  of  taking  this  spiritual 
prescription,  the  minghng  of  the  medicine 
in  the  "  tears  of  repentance,"  the  loathsome- 
ness of  the  remedy  to  Matthew's  carnal 
taste,  the  urgent  necessity  of  the  case,  the 
authoritative  tone  of  the  physician,  the  touch 
of  nature  in  the  scene  when  Christiana 
tastes  the  supposed  nauseous  thing,  and  pro- 
nouncs  it  to  be  "  sweeter  than  honey  " — all 


Matthew  and  Prudence, 


337 


MATTHEW  AND  PRUDENCE. 

good.  So  he  gave  unto  Christiana  physic  for  herself  and  her  boys 
and  for  Mercy,  and  bid  Matthew  take  heed  how  he  ate  any  more 
green  plums,  and  kissed  him,  and  went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys,  that  at  any 
time  they  would,  they  should  ask  her  some  questions  that  might  be 
profitable,  and  she  would  say  something  to  them. 

Then  Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked  her,  Why  for  the  most 
part  physic  should  be  bitter  to  our  palates? 

Prud.  To  show  how  unwelcome  the  Word  of  God,  and  the 
effects  thereof,  are  to  a  carnal  heart. 


this  contains  deep  meaning,  suggestive  of 
most  profitable  reflections  to  thoughtful 
minds, 

T/ien  Matthew  asked  hir. — Prudence, 
who  had  been  the  examiner,  is  now  appealed 
to  as  a  teacher.  Significant  questions  elicit 
equally  significant  answers. 

29 


(i)  Christiana's  own  motto  is  btojght  to 
mind  here :  "The  bitter  must  coir  before 
the  sweet,  and  that  also  will  make  the  sweet 
the  sweeter."  The  discipline  of  the  Word 
of  God  is  against  the  grain  of  the  carnal 
heart,  but  is  good  for  the  soul's  health  and 
well-being. 


338 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Matt.  Why  does  physic,  if  it  does  good,  purge,  and  cause  to 
vomit  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  Word  when  it  works  effectually,  cleans- 
eth  the  heart  and  mind.  For,  look,  what  the  one  doeth  to  the  brdy 
the  other  doeth  to  the  soul. 

Matt.  What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame  of  our  fire  go 
upwards,  and  by  seeing  the  beams  and  sweet  influences  of  the  sun 
strike  downwards  ? 

Prud,  By  the  going  up  of  the  fire  we  are  taught  to  ascend  to 
heaven  by  fervent  and  hot  desires.  And  by  the  sun  sending  his 
heat,  beams,  and  sweet  influences  downwards,  we  are  taught  that 
the  Saviour  of  the  world,  though  high,  reaches  down  with  his  grace 
and  love  to  us  below. 

Matt.    Where  have  the  clouds  their  water? 

Prud.    Out  of  the  sea. 

Matt,    What  may  we  learn  from  that? 

Prud.  That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine  from  God, 

Matt.    Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the  earth  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  ministers  should  give  out  what  they  know 
of  God  to  the  world. 

Matt,    Why  is  the  rainbow  caused  by  the  sun? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  covenant  of  God's  grace  is  confirmed 
to  us  in  Christ. 


(2)  The  natural  heart  is  filled  with  all 
manner  of  spiritual  uncleanness.  The  Word 
of  God  is  the  medicine  of  the  soul,  rendering 
the  corrupt  heart  pure  and  holy,  meet  dwell- 
ing-place of  a  righteous  God. 

(3)  The  sun  is  the  source  of  light ;  its  rays 
are  diffused  over  all  the  globe,  descending 
in  a  flood  of  glory.  Such  is  the  fulness  of 
God's  gift  of  light  to  the  world.  But  earthly 
fire  nses,  as  though  it  would  return  to  its 
birth-place.  Hence  the  ascending  fire  of  the 
altar,  and  the  smoke  of  the  incense  coiling 
upward  to  the  skies,  are  used  in  Scripture  as 
the  emblems  of  prayer  and  thanksgiving 
(Ps.  141  :  2).  But  how  faint  are  the  fires  of 
our  sacrifices,  and  how  few  our  pillars  of  in- 
cense, in  comparison  with  the  full  and  omni- 
present sunlight  of  heaven ! 

(4)  The  fulness  of  the  ocean  flood  is  de- 
rived from  the  rains  of  heaven  ;  and  in  the 
mists   and  evaporations   the  waters    of  the 


earth  do  but  render  back  a  portion  of  the 
gift  they  have  received — the  springs,  and 
rivers,  and  rich  harvests,  and  other  gifts, 
being  the  blessings  that  they  leave  behind. 

(5)  The  rainbow  is  caused  by  the  conjunc- 
tion of  sunshine  and  rain.  It  is  the  emblem 
of  hope — nature's  sunshine  amid  nature's 
tears.  Without  the  cloud  it  could  not  be 
seen,  and  without  the  sun  it  could  not  appear 

(6)  The  waters  of  the  great  deep  are  fil 
tered  for  our  use  through  the  earth,  and  are 
thus  adapted  for  the  use  of  man.  So  is  the 
glory  of  Jehovah  revealed  to  us  through  the 
earthly  body  of  Jesus,  and  through  his  human 
sorrows  and  sufferings  we  receive  "  the  grace 
of  God,  which  bringeth  salvation." 

(7)  Not  only  are  the  low-lying  valleys 
watered  with  refreshing  streams,  but  also 
high  upon  the  hills  do  springs  of  waters 
break  forth.  God  visits  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  life  with  the  joys  of  his  salvation. 


Matthew  and  Prudence. 


339 


Matt.  Why  do  the  springs  come  from  the  sea  to  us  through 
the  earth  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  grace  of  God  comes  to  us  through  the 
body  of  Christ. 

Ma'it.  Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the  tops  of 
high  hills  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  Spirit  of  grace  shall  spring  up  in  some 
that  are  great  and  mighty,  as  well  as  in  many  that  are  poor  and  low. 

Mait.    Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon  the  candle-wick  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that,  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upon  the  heart, 
there  will  be  no  true  light  of  life  in  us, 

Mait.  Why  are  the  wick  and  tallow  and  all  spent,  to  maintain 
the  light  of  the  candle  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  body  and  soul  and  all  should  be  at  the 
service  of,  and  spend  themselves  to  maintain  in  good  condition,  the 
grace  of  God  that  is  in  us. 

Matf.   Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce  her  own  breast  with  her  bill  ? 

Prud.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blood  ;  and  thereby 
to  show  that  Christ  the  blessed  so  loveth  his  young,  his  people,  as  to 
save  them  from  death  by  his  blood. 

Matt.    What  may  one  learn  by  hearing  the  cock  crow  ? 

Prud.    Learn  to  remember  Peter's  sin  and  Peter's  repentance. 
The  cock's  crowing  shows  also  that  the  day  is  coming  on  ;  let  then 
the  crowing  of  the  cock  put  thee  in  mind  of  that  last  and  terrible 
day  of  judgment. 

Now  about  this  time  their  month  was  out ;  wherefore  they  sig- 


There  are  lofty  mountains  that  send  down 
their  streamlets  to  the  valleys ;  and  so  are 
there  ^eat  and  rich  and  mighty  men,  who 
use  their  Christian  influence  aright,  in  serving 
their  generation  and  doing  good  to  their 
fellow-men. 

(8)  The  wick  of  a  candle  is  to  consolidate 
the  light  and  to  prevent  its  burning  out  too 
suddenly  or  too  soon.  The  candle  thus 
burns  regularly  and  on  system,  and  gives 
light  to  the  end  of  its  course.  True  religion 
mu>t  not  be  a  mere  flash  of  momentary'  im- 
pulse, but  a  steady-burning  and  shining  light 
in  the  soul. 

(9)  And  as  the  candle  burns,  it  needs  to 
be  fed  and  nourished.  The  material  that 
surrounds  it  is  it?  food  ;  and  as  it  gives  light 


on  system,  so  on  system  it  receives  its  nour- 
ishment. 

(10)  There  are  in  nature  many  illustra- 
tions of  the  Divine  mystery  of  godliness  : 
the  faint  echoes  of  creation  responding  to  the 
voice  that  called  it  into  being,  evidences  that 
before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  the 
scheme  of  redemption,  by  the  shedding  of 
the  blood  of  Christ,  had  been  foreordained 
and  appointed. 

(11)  So  also  are  these  natural  emblems  of 
Divine  lessons.  The  cock-crowing,  for  in- 
stance, serves  to  remind  us  of  many  profit- 
able reflections,  associated  with  the  examples 
of  those  that  have  gone  before,  as  well  as 
with  th-?  duties  that  now  devolve  upon  our. 
selves. 


340 


The  Pilgrim's  PnogresSc 


nihed  to  tho.se  «/  the  house  that  it  was  convenient  for  them  to  up 
and  b^  going.  Then  said  Joseph  to  his  mother,  It  is  proper  that 
you  forget  not  to  send  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Interpreter,  to  pray  hin^ 
to  grant  that  Mr.  Great-heart  should  be  sent  unto  us,  that  he  may  be 
our  conductor  the  rest  of  our  way.  Good  boy,  said  she  ;  I  had 
almost  forgot.  So  she  drew  up  a  petition,  and  prayed  Mr.  Watch- 
ful, the  porter,  to  send  it  by  some  fit  man  to  her  good  friend  Mr. 
Interpreter ;  who,  when  it  was  come,  and  he  had  seen  the  contents 
of  the  petition,  said  to  the  messenger.  Go  tell  them  that  I  will  send 
him 

When  the  family,  where  Christiana  was,  saw  that  they  had  a 
purpose  to  go  forward,  they  called  the  whole  house  together,  to  give 
thanks  to  their  King  for  sending  of  them  such  profitable  guests  as 
these.  Which  done,  they  said  unto  Christiana,  And  shall  we  not 
show  thee  something,  as  our  custom  is  to  do  to  pilgrims,  on  which 
thou  mayest  meditate  when  thou  art  on  the  way  }  So  they  took 
Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy  into  the  closet,  and  showed  them 
one  of  the  apples  that  Eve  ate  of,  and  that  she  also  did  give  to  her 
husband,  and  that  for  the  eating  of  which  they  were  both  turned  out 
of  Paradise,  and  asked  her,  What  she  thought  that  was  ?  Then 
Christiana  said.  It  is  food,  or  poison,  I  know  not  which.  So  they 
opened  the  matter  to  her,  and  she  held  up  her  hands  and  wondered 
(Gen.  3:  1-6  ;  Rom.  7:  24). 

Then  they  had  her  to  a  place  and  showed  her  Jacob's  ladder. 
Now  at  that  time  there  were  some  angels  ascending  upon  it.  So 
Christiana  looked  and  looked  to  see  the  angels  go  up  ;  so  did  the 
rest  of  the  company  (Gen.  28:  12).  Then  they  were  going  into 
another  place,  to  show  them  something  else ;  but  James  said  to  his 
mother.  Pray  bid  them  stay  here  a  little  longer,  for  this  is  a  curious 
siglit.  So  they  turned  again,  and  stood  feeding  their  eyes  on  this  so 
pleasant  a  prospect.  After  this  they  had  them  into  a  place  where 
there  did  hang  up  a  golden  anchor  ;  so  they  bid  Christiana  take  it 
down  ;  for,  said  they,  you  shall  have  it  with  you,  for  it  is  of  absolute 
necessity  that  you  should  lay  hold  of  "  that  within  the  veil,"  and  stand 


Now  their  month  was  oitt, — Thus  did  the 
Pilgrims  spend  the  period  of  their  sojourn  ; 
and  now  it  was  time  to  arise  and  go  forward, 
and  once  more  to  face  the  dangers  of  the 
way.  In  the  anticipation  of  their  need,  they 
ire  reminded  of  tlie  departure  of  (]reat- 


HEART,  and  that  he  may  be  fetched  back 
again  only  for  the  asking.  Accordingly,  they 
forward  a  petition  to  the  Interpreter  that 
he  would  renew  his  grant  of  Grkat-iieart, 
still  to  be  the  conductor  of  the  pilgrimage 
even  to  the  end  ;  and  their  prayer  is  granted 


^k-Cj:i'S  LADDER 


341 


S4L> 


The  P'lgrims  Pi'ogresS. 


steadfast,  in  case  you  should  meet  with  turbulent  weather;  so  they 
were  glad  thereof  (Joel  3:16;  Heb.  6  :  19),  Then  they  took  them 
and  had  them  to  the  mount  upon  which  Abraham  our  father  offered 
up  Isaac  his  son,  and  showed  them  the  altar,  the  wood,  the  fire  and 
the  knife  ;  for  they  remain  to  be  seen  to  this  very  day.  When  they 
had  seen  it,  they  held  up  their  hands,  and  blessed  themselves,  and 
said.  Oh,  what  a  man  for  love  to  his  Master,  and  for  denial  to  him- 
self, was  Abraham  !  After  they  had  showed  them  all  these  things, 
Prudence  took  them  into  a  dining-room,  where  stood  a  pair  of 
excellent  virginals  ;  so  she  played  upon  them,  and  turned  what  she 
had  showed  them  into  this  excellent  song,  saying — 


Eve's  apple  we  have  showed  you, 

Of  that  be  you  aware ; 
You  have  seen  Jacob's  ladder,  too, 

Upon  which  angels  are  ; 


An  anchor  you  received  have ; 

But  let  not  this  suffice, 
Until  with  Abra'am  you  have  gave 

Your  best  of  sacrifice. 


Now  about  this  time  one  knocked  at  the  door  ;  so  the  porter 
opened,  and,  behold,  Mr.  Great-heart  was  there.  But  when  he  was 
tome  in,  what  joy  was  there!  for  it  came  now  fresh  again  into  their 
minds  how  but  a  while  ago  he  had  slain  old  Grim  Bloody-man  the 
p-iant,  and  had  delivered  them  from  the  lions. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  Christiana  and  to  Mercy,  My 
Lord  hath  sent  each  of  you  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  also  some  parched 
corn,  together  with  a  couple  of  pomegranates  ;  he  has  also  sent  the 
boys  some  figs  and  raisins,  to  refresh  you  in  your  way. 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey ;  and  Pru- 
dence and  Piety  went  along  with  them.  When  they  came  at  the 
gate,  Christiana  asked  the  porter  if  any  of  late  went  by.  He  said, 
No,  only  one,  some  time  since,  who  also  told  me  that  of  late  there 
had  been  a  great  robbery  committed  on  the  King's  highway,  as  you 
go;  but,  said  he,  the  thieves  are  taken,  and  will  shortly  be  tried  for 
their  lives.  Then  Christiana  and  Mercy  were  afraid ;  but  Matthew 
said,  Mother,  fear  nothing,  as  long  as  Mr.  Great-heart  is  to  go  with 
us,  and  to  be  our  conductor. 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  porter.  Sir,  I  am  much  obliged  to 

you  for  all  the  kindnesses  that  you  have  showed  to  me  since  1  came 

uher  ;  and  also  that  you  have  been  so  loving  and  kind  to  my  chil- 

iren.    I  know  not  how  to  gratify  your  kindness  ;  wherefore,  pray, 

as  a  token  of  my  respect  to  you,  accept  of  this  small  mite.     So  she 

put  a  gold  angel  into  his  hand  ;  and  he  made  her  a  low  obeisance, 


The  Pilgrims  leave  the  Palace  Beautiful.  343 

and  said  "Let  thy  garments  be  always  white,  and  let  thy  head  want 
no  ointment."  Let  Mercy  live  and  not  die,  and  let  not  her  works  be 
tew.  And  to  the  boys  he  said,  Do  you  flee  youthful  lusts,  and  follow 
after  godliness  with  them  that  are  grave  and  v/ise ;  so  shall  you  put 
gladness  into  your  mother's  heart,  and  obtain  praise  of  all  that  are 
sober-minded.     So  they  thanked  the  porter  and  departed. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  forward,  until  they  were 
come  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  where  Piety,  bethinking  herself,  cried 
out,  Alas !  I  have  forgot  what  I  intended  to  bestow  upon  Christiana 
and  her  companions;  I  will  go  back  and  fetch  it.  So  she  ran  and 
fetched  it.  When  she  was  gone,  Christiana  thought  she  heard  in  a 
grove,  a  little  way  off  on  the  right  hand,  a  most  curious  melodious 
note,  with  words  much  like  these  : 

Through  all  my  life  thy  favor  is 

So  frankly  shown  to  me, 
That  in  thy  house  for  evermore 

My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

And  listening  till  she  thought  she  heard  another  answer  it,  saying— . 

For  why  ?     The  Lord  our  God  is  good, 

His  mercy  is  forever  sure  ; 
His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 

And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure. 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  what  it  was  that  made  those  curi- 
ous notes.  They  are,  said  she,  our  country  birds;  they  sing  those 
notes  but  seldom,  except  it  be  at  the  spring,  when  the  flowers  appear 
and  the  sun  shines  warm,  and  then  you  may  hear  them  all  day  long. 
I  often,  said  she,  go  out  to  hear  them  ;  we  also  ofttimes  keep  them 
tame  in  our  house.  They  are  very  fine  company  for  us  when  we  are 
melancholy ;  also  they  make  the  woods,  and  groves,  and  solitary 
places,  places  desirous  to  be  in  (Song  of  Sol.  2:  11,  12). 

By  this  time  Piety  was  come  again  ;  so  she  said  to  Christiana, 
Look  here,  I  have  brouorht  thee  a  scheme  of  all  those  thino-s  that  thou 
hast  seen  at  our  house,  upon  which  thou  mayest  look  when  thou  find 
est  thyself  forgetful,  and  call  those  things  again  to  remembrance,  for 
thy  edification  and  comfort. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


The  Valley  of  Humiliation. 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  now  opens  to  their  view,  and  Great-heart 
leads  the  way.  This  valley  is  still  filled  with  horrors  ;  but  it  is  less  perilous  to  our  present 
Pilgrims,  because  it  is  day,  and  the  sun  shines  upon  their  path,  and  their  dauntless  guide  is 
with  them.  Still,  darkness  suddenly  descends,  and  intercepts  their  progress ;  and,  like 
Christian,  they  are  made  to  feel  the  necessity  and  power  of  prayer ;  for,  on  the  descent 
of  darkness,  they  pray  for  light,  and,  lo!  the  blessed  light  of  heaven  doth  again  encompass 
them. 


OW  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  into  the  Valley  of  Hu- 
miliation. It  was  a  steep  hill,  and  the  way  was  slippery  ; 
but  they  were  very  careful ;  so  they  got  down  pretty  well. 
When  they  were  down  in  the  valley,  Piety  said  to  Chris- 
tiana, This  is  the  place  where  your  husband  met  with  the 
foul  fiend  Apollyon,  and  where  they  had  that  dreadful  fight  that 
they  had;  I  know  you  cannot  but  have  heard  thereof.  But  be 
of  good  courage;  as  long  as  you  have  here  Mr.  Great-heart,  to  be 
your  guide  and  conductor,  we  hope  you  will  fare  the  better.  So 
when  these  two  had  committed  the  pilgrims  unto  the  conduct  of  their 
guide,  he  went  forward,  and  they  went  after. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  We  need  not  be  so  afraid  of  this 
valley,  for  there  is  nothing  to  hurt  us  unless  we  procure  it  to  our- 
selves. It  is  true  Christian  did  here  meet  with  Apollyon,  with  whom  he 
had  also  a  sore  combat ;  but  that  fray  was  the  fruit  of  those  slips  that 
he  got  in  going  down  the  hill ;  for  they  that  get  slips  there  must  look 
for  combats  here.  And  hence  it  is  that  this  valley  has  got  so  hard  a 
For  the  common  people,  when  they  hear  that  some  frightful 


name. 


The  Valley  of  Humiliation. — Once  more 
we  are  introduced  to  the  dangerous  descent 
of  the  diffictdt  hill.  Difficulties  and  dangers, 
however,  are  greatly  mitigated  in  the  case 
of  Christiana  and  her  companions.  Even 
here,  though  the  descent  was  steep  and 
slippery  (as  it  always  is),  this  company  of 
pilgrims,  with  care  and  caution,  got  down 
safely. 


It  is  important  to  observe  the  position  in 
which  the  Lord  of  the  hill  has  thus  caused 
to  be  built  this  fair  house  of  his — the  Palace 
Beautiful,  the  abode  of  Christian  communion 
and  fellowship.  At  one  side  there  is  diffi- 
culty, in  climbing  to  its  elevation ;  this  is 
so  designed  as  to  render  pilgrims  conscious 
of  their  urgent  need.  At  the  other  side, 
there  is  danger,  in  descending  from  its  sub 


(344) 


The   i'alley  of  liuiuiliaUoh. 


Ub 


THE  PILLAR  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILITY. 

thing  has  befallen  such  an  one,  in  such  a  place,  are  of  opinion  that 
that  place  is  haunted  with  some  foul  fiend  or  evil  spirit;  when,  alas! 
it  is  for  the  fruit  of  their  doinor  that  such  things  do  befall  them  there. 

This  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  of  itself  as  fruitful  a  place  as  any 
the  crow  flies  over  ;  and  I  am  persuaded,  if  we  could  hit  upon  it,  we 
might  find  somewhere  hereabout  something  that  might  give  us  an 
account  why  Christian  was  so  hardly  beset  in  this  place. 

Then  James  said  to  his  mother,  Lo,  yonder  stands  a  pillar,  and  it 
looks  as  if  something  was  written  thereon  ;  let  ws  go  and  see  what  it 
is.  So  they  went,  and  found  there  written,  "  Let  Christian's  slips, 
before  he  came  hither,  and  the  battles  that  he  met  with  in  this  place, 
be  a  warning  to  those  that  come  after."  Lo,  said  their  guide,  did  I 
not  tell  you  that  there  was  something  hereabouts  that  would  give  in- 


lime  enjoyments ;  this  is  also  designed  for  a 
purpose — to  suggest  the  need  of  caution,  and 


to  furnish  scope  and  opportunity  for  putting 
forth    and    using   the    supplies    of    spiritual 


346  The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 

timation  of  the  reason  why  Christian  was  so  hard  beset  in  this  place? 
Then  turning  himseU"  to  Christiana,  he  said,  No  disparagement  to 
Christian,  more  than  to  many  others  whose  hap  and  lot  it  was,  I'or 
it  is  easier  going  up  than  down  this  hill,  and  that  can  be  said  but  of 
few  hills  in  all  these  parts  of  the  world.  But  we  will  leave  the  good 
man  ;  he  is  at  rest ;  he  also  had  a  brave  victory  over  his  enemy.  Let 
Him  grant  that  dwelleth  above  that  we  fare  no  worse,  when  we  come 
to  be  tried,  than  he  ! 

But  we  will  come  again  to  this  Valley  of  Humiliation.  It  is  the 
best  and  most  fruitful  piece  of  ground  in  all  these  parts.  It  is  a  fat 
ground,  and,  as  you  see,  consisteth  much  in  meadows  ;  and  if  a  man 
was  to  come  here  in  the  summer-time,  as  we  do  now,  if  he  knew 
not  anything  before  thereof,  and  if  he  also  delighted  himself  in  the 
sight  of  his  eyes,  he  might  see  that  which  w^ould  be  delightful  to 
him.  Behold  how  green  this  valley  is ;  also  how  beautiful  with 
lilies  (Song  of  Sol.  2:1).  I  have  also  known  many  laboring  men 
jiat  have  got  good  estates  in  this  Valley  of  Humiliation  (for  "  God 
resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble  ")  ;  for  indeed 
it  is  a  very  fruitful  soil,  and  doth  bring  forth  by  handfuls  (James  4 : 
6;  I  Peter  5 :  5).  Some  also  have  wished  that  the  next  way  to 
their  Father's  house  were  here,  that  they  might  be  troubled  no 
more  with  either  hills  or  mountains  to  go  over ;  but  the  way  is  the 
way,  and  there  is  an  end. 

Now  as  they  were  going  along  and  talking,  they  espied  a  boy 
feeding  his  father's  sheep.  The  boy  was  in  very  mean  clothes,  but 
of  a  fresh  and  well-favored  countenance  ;  and  as  he  sat  by  himself, 

strength  that  have  been  received.     This  is  I   cause  us  to  meet  with  hardships  in  the  vale, 

illustrated  in  the  narrative  of  both  Pilgrim-  It  is  a  prohfic  ground,  producing  fruits  and 

ages — though  differently  in  each.  I  flowers  in  rich  and  rare  abundance — meet 

Infiinntion  of  the  reason. — The  manner  of  |  emblems  of  the  spirit  of  humility,  that  spir- 

accomplishing  this  descent  is  the  measure  of  itual  soil  that  is  most  productive  of  Christian 

the  danger  of  the  valley  itself.     Christian  ;  virtues  and  heavenly  graces.     We  are  spir- 

had  many  slips  by  the  way;  and  hence  the  itually  nearer  to  God,  and  more  like  to  Christ. 

hard  experience  he  met  with  in  his  fight  with  while   dwelling  in  the   low-lying    valley    of 

Apollvon.      He  that  walks  not  steadfastly,  humility,  or  even  in  the  still  lower  valley  oV 


after  enjoying  the  great  privilege  of  Christian 
fellowship,  may  well  expect  to  meet  with 
some  sharp  brunt  that  will  teach  him  to  walk 
more  circumspectly,  and  more  dearly  prize 
the  strength  he  has  received. 

The  best  and  most  fruitful  ground. — It  is 


humiliation,  than  when  perched  upon  the 
mountain-top  of  human  pride.  The  moun- 
tain summit  may  be  covered  with  the  chiii 
and  icy  barrenness  of  the  everlasting  snows, 
while  in  the  well-watered  valleys  beneath  are 
the  abounding  fruits  and  sweet-scented  flow- 


plain  it  is  something  within  ourselves,  and      ers  and  waving  corn-fields  of  a  garden  which 
ttot  in  the  nature  of  the  valley  itself,  that  doth  ]  the  Lord  hath  blessed. 


The  Joys  of  I  he    Valley  of  Hiuniliation, 


347 


he  suncr.      Hark!   said  Mr.  Great-heart,  to  what  the  shepherd's  boy 
saith.    ^So  they  hearkened,  and  he  said : 

He  that  is  down,  needs  fear  no  fall, 

He  that  is  low,  no  pride ; 
He  that  is  humble  ever  shall 

Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 

I  am  content  with  what  I  have. 

Little  be  it,  or  much  ; 
And,  Lord,  contentment  still  I  crave. 

Because  thou  savest  such. 

Fulness  to  such  a  burden  is 

That  go  on  pilgrimage  : 
Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss. 

Is  best  from  age  to  age. 

Then  said  their  guide,  Do  you  hear  him?  I  will  dare  to  say, 
this  boy  lives  a  merrier  hfe,  and  wears  more  of  that  herb  called 
heart's  ease  in  his  bosom,  than  he  that  is  clad  in  silk  and  velvet. 
But  we  will  proceed  in  our  discourse. 

In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  his  country-house  ;  he 
loved  much  to  be  here.  He  loved  also  to  walk  in  these  meadows, 
and  he  found  the  air  was  pleasant.  Besides,  here  a  man  shall  be 
free  from  the  noise  and  hurryings  of  this  life  ;  all  states  are  full  ot 
noise  and  confusion  ;  only  the  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  that  empty 
and  solitary  place.  Here  a  man  shall  not  be  so  let  and  hindered  in 
his  contempladon,  as  in  other  places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a  val 
ley  that  nobody  walks  in  but  those  that  love  a  pilgrim's  life.  And 
though  Chrisdan  had  the  hard  hap  to  meet  here  with  Apollyon,  and 
to  enter  with  him  into  a  brisk  encounter,  yet  I  must  tell  you  that  in 
former  times  men  have  met  with  angels  here,  have  found  pearls 
here,  and  have  in  this  place  found  the  words  of  life  (Hos.  12:4,  5). 

Did  I  say  our  Lord  had  here  in  former  days  his  country-house. 


The  shepherd-boy  s  song. — This  is  one  of 
the  purest  gems  of  the  Allegory — the  scene 
of  the  shepherd-boy,  singing  his  pastoral 
song  of  humility,  while  he  feeds  his  father's 
sheep.  The  peace  and  quietude  of  the  valley, 
the  joy  and  gladness  of  the  spirit  of  the  swain, 
the  beauty  and  pathos  of  the  song  he  sings, 
and,  above  all,  the  contrast  with  the  experi- 
ence of  Christian  in  this  same  valley— all 
tend  to  enhance  the  subhmity  of  the  occasion, 
%nd  to  point  out  how  happy,  thrice  happy, 


are  those  humble-minded  and  lowly  Pilgrims 
whose  hearts  are  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of 
the  place.  Oh,  for  more  of  the  spirit  of 
humility  !  for  more  of  that  mind  that  was  in 
Christ  Jesus  !  for  in  this  valley  was  the  chosen 
resort  of  the  Saviour.  Yes,  in  the  lowly 
peace  and  shade  and  quietude  of  this  deep 
vale  did  the  Son  of  the  Highest  dwell  for  a.- 
space;  and  he  who  would  be  as  Christ  was, 
will  also  seek  his  habitation  there.  So  near  is 
the  footstool  of  humility  to  the  throne  of  glory! 


348 


The  Pitgrhn  s  Progress. 


and  that  he  loved  here  to  walk  ?  I  will  add,  in  this  place,  and  to 
the  people  that  love  and  trace  these  grounds  he  has  left  a  yearly 
revenue,  to  be  faithfully  paid  them  at  certain  seasons  for  their  main- 
tenance by  the  way,  and  for  their  further  encouragement  to  go  on 
in  their  pilgrimage. 

Now,  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr.  Great-heart,  Sir,  I 
perceive  that  in  this  valley  my  father  and  Apollyon  had  their  battle ; 
but  whereabout  was  the  fight?  for  I  perceive  this  valley  is  large. 

Great.  Your  father  had  the  battle  vith  Apollyon  at  a  place 
yonder  before  us,  in  a  narrow  passage  jusi  beyond  Forgetful  Green. 
And  indeed  that  place  is  the  most  dangerous  place  in  all  these 
parts  ;  for  if  at  any  time  pilgrims  meet  with  any  brunt,  it  is  when 
they  forget  what  favors  they  have  received,  and  how  unworthy  they 
are  of  them.  This  is  the  place  also  where  others  have  been  hard 
put  to  it.  But  more  of  the  place  wlien  we  are  come  to  it ;  for  I 
persuade  myself  that  to  this  day  there  remains  either  some  sign  of 
the  battle,  or  some  monument  to  testify  that  such  a  battle  was 
^ought  there. 

Then  said  Mercy,  I  think  I  am  as  well  in  this  valley  as  I  have 
been  anywhere  else  in  all  our  journey  ;  the  place,  methinks,  suits 
with  my  spirit.  I  love  to  be  in  such  places  where  there  is  no  rat- 
tling with  coacb':;s,  nor  rumbling  with  wheels.  Methinks  here  one 
may,  without  nnich  molestation,  be  thinking  what  he  is,  whence  he 
came,  what  he  has  done,  and  to  what  the  King  has  called  him  ;  here 
one  may  think,  and  break  at  heart,  and  melt  one's  spirit,  until  one's 
eyes  become  "  as  the  fishpools  of  Heshbon."  They  that  go  rightly 
through  this  "  Valley  of  Baca,  make  it  a  well  ;  the  rain,"  that  God 
sends  down  from  heaven  upon  them  that  are  here,  '•  also  filleth  the 
pools"  (Song  of  Sol.  7:  4;  Ps.  84:  5-7;  Hos.  2:  15).  This  val- 
ley is  that  from  whence  also  the  King  will  give  to  them  their  vine- 
yards ;  and  they  that  go  through  it  shall  sing  as  Christian  did,  for 
all  he  met  with  Apollyon. 


Forgetful  Green. — The  cause  of  Chris- 
tian's hard  experience  in  this  valley  receives 
here  additional  illustration.  Besides  his 
"slips"  in  the  descent  of  the  hill,  there  was 
yet  another  cause  of  offence— his  departure 
from  the  right  way,  by  which  he  wandered 
into  the  place  of  Forgetfulness.  The  dispen- 
sation of  Providence  to  the  Pilgrim  had  been 
a  dispensation  of  favor  and  goodness.  The 
Author  of  these  blessings  was   ever  to  be 


remembered,  never  to  be  forgotten  ;  more 
particularly  after  the  large  and  liberal  favors 
bestowed  upon  him  in  the  communion  of  the 
Palace.  Yet  it  would  appear  that  this  was  a 
moment  of  forgetfulness,  a  season  of  oblivion 
of  God's  goodness,  while  Christian  trav- 
ersed the  valley,  and  that  therefore  he  met 
with  that  fierce  encounter  and  that  long-con- 
tinued conflict,  so  that  he  might  again  be 
taught  to  know  and  recognize  the  harid  that 


The  Monument  in  the   Valley  of  Hwniliation. 


349 


It  lA  true,  said  their  guide;  I  have  gone  through  this  valley 
many  a  time,  and  never  was  better  than  when  here.  I  have  also 
been  a  conductor  to  several  pilgrims,  and  they  have  confessed  the 
same.  "To  this  man  will  I  look"  (saith  the  King),  "even  to  him 
that  is  poor,  and  that  trembleth  at  my  word"  (Isa.  66  :   2). 

Now  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  afore-mentioned 
battle  was  fought.  Then  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  her  children 
and  Mercy,  This  is  the  place ;  on  this  ground  Christian  stood,  and 
up  there  came  Apollyon  against  him;  and,  look,  did  not  I  tell  you, 
here  is  some  of  your  husband's  blood  upon  these  stones  to  this  day. 
Behold,  also,  how  here  and  there  are  yet  to  be  seen  upon  the  place 
some  of  the  shivers  of  Apollyon's  broken  darts.  See  also  how  they 
did  beat  the  ground  with  their  feet  as  they  fought,  to  make  good 
their  places  against  each  other  ;  how  also,  with  their  by-blows,  did 
they  split  the  very  stones  in  pieces.  Verily  Christian  did  here  play 
the  man,  and  showed  himself  as  stout  as  Hercules  could,  had  he 
been  there,  even  he  himself.  When  Apollyon  was  beat,  he  made 
his  retreat  to  the  next  valley,  that  is  called  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death,  unto  which  we  shall  come  anon.  Lo,  yonder  also  stands 
a  monument,  on  which  is  engraven  this  battle,  and  Christian's  vic- 
tory, to  his  fame  throughout  all  ages. 

So,  because  it  stood  just  on  the  way-side  before  them,  they 
stepped  to  it,  and  read  the  writing,  which  word  for  word  was  thus  : 


Hard  by  here  was  a  battle  fought, 
Most  strange,  and  yet  most  true  ; 

Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 
Each  other  to  subdue. 


The  man  so  bravely  played  the  man, 
He  made  the  fiend  to  fly  ; 

Of  which  a  monument  I  stand, 
The  same  to  testify. 


hitherto  had  been  over  him  good,  for  guiding 
and  guarding  him  in  his  Pilgrimage. 

This  is  the  place. — The  realization  of  pre- 
vious downfalls  and  reverses  may  be  as  ad- 
monitory to  the  Pilgrims  as  the  review  of 
successes  would  be  encouraging.  Memorials 
of  the  conflict  remain  long  after  the  battle 
has  concluded,  long  after  the  champions 
have  ceased  to  fight.  God,  in  his  providence, 
permits  the  marks  and  tokens  of  the  fray  to 
abide,  as  an  evidence  of  the  intensity  of  the 
strife,  and  a  proof  of  the  greatness  of  the 
victory.  Veteran  heroes  generally  show  their 
scars  and  wounds,  as  tokens  of  many  a  hard- 
fought    battle,   and  of  many  a  campaign 


through  which  they  have  passed.  This 
battle-field  was,  indeed,  a  part  of  the  valley 
into  which  Christian  ought  not  to  have 
ventured ;  but  from  the  moment  he  was 
recalled  to  the  remembrance  of  his  God  and 
Father,  all  his  wounds  were  proofs  of  the 
genuineness  of  his  fidelity  and  of  the  power 
of  his  faith — evidences  that  he  would  not  be 
brought  into  bondage  of  the  Destroyer. 

The  Shadow  of  Death.— "'YYixs  doleful 
place,"  though  not  utterly  dark,  was  yet  dis- 
mal enough  to  our  Pilgrim-company.  The 
intense  horror  of  the  place  was  much  mod- 
erated on  this  occasion  ;  for  Gkeat-heart 
was  with  the  Pilgrims.  Dangers  arise  •  fiend$ 


360 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


When  they  had  passed  by  this  place,  they  came  upon  the  borders 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  this  valley  was  longer  than  the  others, 
a  place  also  most  strangely  haunted  with  evil  things,  as  many  are 
able  to  testify ;  but  these  women  and  children  went  the  better  through 
it,  because  they  had  daylight,  and  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  their 
conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley,  they  thought  that  they 
heard  a  groaning  as  of  dying  men  ;  a  very  great  groaning.  They 
thought  also  that  they  did  hear  words  of  lamentation,  spoken  as  of 
some  in  extreme  torment.  These  things  made  the  boys  to  quake;  the 
women  also  looked  pale  and  wan  ;  but  their  guide  bid  them  be  of  good 
comfort. 

So  they  went  on  a  little  farther,  and  they  thought  they  felt  the 
ground  begin  to  shake  under  them,  as  if  some  hollow  place  was  there  ; 
they  heard  also  a  kind  of  hissing,  as  of  serpents,  but  nothing  as  yet 
appeared.  Then  said  the  boys,  Are  we  not  yet  at  the  end  of  this 
doleful  place?  But  the  Guide  also  bid  them  be  of  good  courage 
and  look  well  to  their  feet,  lest  haply,  said  he,  you  be  taken  in  some 
snare. 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick,  but  I  think  the  cause  thereof  was 
fear ;  so  his  mother  gave  him  some  of  that  glass  of  spirits  that  had 
been  given  her  at  the  Interpreter's  house,  and  three  of  the  pills  thai 
Mr.  Skill  had  prepared,  and  the  boy  began  to  revive.  Thus  they 
went  on,  till  they  came  to  about  the  middle  of  the  valley ;  and  then 
Christiana  said,  Methinks  I  see  something  yonder  on  the  road  before 
us  ;  a  thing  of  a  shape  such  as  I  have  not  seen.  Then  said  Joseph, 
Mother,  what  is  it  ?  An  ugly  thing,  child  ;  an  ugly  thing,  said  she. 
But,  mother,  what  is  it  like?  said  he.  'Tis  like,  I  cannot  tell  what, 
said  she.    And  now  it  is  but  a  little  way  off    Then  said  she,  It  is  nigh. 

Well,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  let  them  that  are  most  afraid  keep 


appear ;  groans  are  heard ;  earthquakes 
rumble  beneath  their  feet ;  and  serpents  and 
scorpions,  with  a  hissing  sound,  alarm  them. 
Thus  do  spiritual  misgivings  crowd  upon 
the  soul,  and  at  times  startle  the  spirit  of 
true  pilgrims.  Convictions,  doubtings,  fears 
lay  siege  round  about  the  spiritual  man,  and, 
more  or  less,  disturb  his  peace,  weaken  his 
faith,  and  darken  the  prospect  of  his  hope. 
Even  with  the  company  of  Great-heart, 
these  troubles  came  upon  these  Pilgrims  ; 
but  when  they  kept  close  to  his  protecting 


hand,  and  set  his  great  strength  in  advance, 
the  danger  vanished. 

Great-heart  went  behind. — Here  is  the 
protecting  providence  of  Divine  favor  once 
more  screening  the  Pilgrims  from  assault. 
At  one  time  it  goes  before  them,  at  another 
time  it  follows  them — always  standing  be- 
tween the  Pilgrims  and  the  harm  that  is  de 
signed  against  them.  Like  the  pillar  of 
cloud  in  the  wilderness,  it  acts  both  as  a 
protection  and  a  guide. 

A  great  fnist  and  a  darkness. — Dangers 


The  Fiend  and  the  Lion. 


351 


close  to  me.  So  the  fiend  came  on,  and  the  conductor  met  it ;  but 
when  it  was  just  come  to  him  it  vanished  to  all  their  sights.  Then 
remembered  they  what  had  been  said  some  time  ago,  "  Resist  the 
devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you." 

They  went  therefore  on,  as  being  a  little  refreshed  ;  but  they 
had  not  gone  far,  before  Mercy,  looking  behind  her,  saw,  as  she 
thought,  something  most  like  a  lion,  and  it  came  a  great  padding  pace 
after  ;  and  it  had  a  hollow  voice  of  roaring  ;  and  at  every  roar  it 
gave  it  made  the  valley  echo,  and  all  their  hearts  to  ache,  save  the 
heart  of  him  that  was  their  guide.  So  it  came  up;  and  Mr.  Great- 
heart  went  behind,  and  put  the  pilgrims  all  before  him.  The  Hon 
also  came  on  apace,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  addressed  himself  to  give 
him  battle.  But  when  he  saw  that  it  was  determined  that  resist- 
ance should  be  made,  he  also  drew  back,  and  came  no  farther 
(i  Peter  5:  8,  9). 

Then  they  went  on  again,  and  their  conductor  did  go  before 
them,  till  they  came  to  a  place  where  was  cast  up  a  pit  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  way ;  and  before  they  could  be  prepared  to  go  over 
that,  a  great  mist  and  a  darkness  fell  upon  them,  so  that  they  could 
not  see.  Then  said  the  pilgrims,  Alas  !  what  now^  shall  we  do?  But 
their  guide  made  answer,  Fear  not,  stand  still,  and  see  what  ai-  end 
will  be  put  to  this  also.  So  they  stayed  there,  because  their  padi 
was  marred.  They  then  also  thought  that  they  did  hear  more  appar- 
ently the  noise  and  rushing  of  the  enemies;  the  fire  also  and  smoke 
of  the  pit  were  much  easier  to  be  discerned.  Then  said  Christiana 
to  Mercy,  Now  I  see  what  my  poor  husband  went  through.  I  have 
heard  much  of  this  place,  but  I  never  was  here  before  now.  Poor 
man  !  he  went  here  all  alone,  in  the  night ;  he  had  night  almost  quite 
through  the  way  ;  also  these  fiends  were  busy  about  him,  as  if  they 
would  have  torn  him  in  pieces.  Many  have  spoken  of  it,  but  none 
can  tell  what  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  should  mean  until 
they  come  in  it  themselves.  "  The  heart  knoweth  his  own  bitterness; 
and  a  stranger  doth  not  intermeddle  with  his  joy."  To  be  here  is 
a  fearful  thine. 

Great.  This  is  like  "doing  business  in  great  waters,"  or  like 
going  down  into  the  deep  ;   this  is  like  being  "  in  the  heart  of  the 


thicken  now  around  the  feet  of  the  Pilgrims. 
Some  dark  moment  of  spiritual  fear  is  indi- 
cated here,  the  darkness  increasing  the  ef- 
fect of  their  other  sorrows.     Even  Great- 


heart  seems  as  though  he  were  brought  tn 
a  standstill  at  this  dark  spot;  and,  having 
large  experience  of  the  way,  he  suggests  thy 
use  of  that  potent  weapon  by  which  Chri5' 


352 


Tfie  Mlgrini' s  Progress. 


sea,"  and  like  "going  down  to  die  bottoms  of  the  mountains."  Nov; 
it  seems  as  if  "  the  earth  with  her  bars  were  about  us  for  ever."  "But 
let  them  that  walk  in  darkness,  and  have  no  light,  trust  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  their  God."  For  my  part,  as  I  have  told 
you  already,  I  have  gone  often  through  this  valley,  and  have  been 
much  harder  put  to  it  than  now  I  am  ;  and  yet  you  see  1  am  alive. 
I  would  not  boast,  for  that  I  am  not  my  own  saviour.  But  I  trust  we 
shall  have  a  good  deliverance.  Come,  let  us  pray  for  light  to  Him 
that  can  lighten  our  darkness,  and  that  can  rebuke  not  only  these, 
but  all  the  Satans  in  hell. 

So  they  cried  and  prayed,  and  God  sent  light  and  deliverance ; 
lor  there  was  now  no  let  in  their  way,  no,  not  there  where  but  now 
they  were  stopped  with  a  pit.  Yet  they  were  not  got  through  the 
valley  ;  so  they  went  on  still,  and,  behold,  great  stinks  and  loathsome 
smells  to  the  great  annoyance  of  them.  Then  said  Mercy  to  Chris- 
tiana, It  is  not  so  pleasant  being  here  as  at  the  gate,  or  at  the  Inter- 
preter's, or  at  the  house  where  we  lay  last. 

Oh,  but,  said  one  of  the  boys,  it  is  not  so  bad  to  go  through  here 
as  it  is  to  abide  here  always ;  and,  for  aught  I  know,  one  reason  why 
we  must  go  this  way  to  the  house  prepared  for  us  is,  that  our  home 
miofht  be  made  sweeter  to  us. 

Well  said,  Samuel,  quoth  the  Guide ;  thou  hast  spoken  now  like 
a  man.  Why,  if  ever  I  get  out  here  again,  said  the  boy,  I  think  I 
shall  prize  light  and  good  way  better  than  ever  I  did  in  all  my  life. 
Then  said  the  Guide,  We  shall  be  out  by-and-by. 

So  on  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  Cannot  we  see  to  the  end  ot 
this  valley  as  yet?  Then  said  the  guide,  Look  to  your  feet,  for  we 
shall  presently  be  among  the  snares.  So  they  looked  at  their  feet, 
and  went  on  ;  but  they  were  troubled  much  with  the  snares.  Now 
when  they  were  come  among  the  snares,  they  espied  a  man  cast  into 
the  ditch  on  the  left  hand,  with  his  flesh  all  rent  and  torn.  Then  said 
the  Guide,  That  is  one  Heedless  that  was  going  this  way  ;  he  has  lain 
there  a  ereat  while.  There  was  one  Take-heed  with  him  when  he  was 
taken  and  slain,  but  he  escaped  their  nands.  You  cannot  imagine  how 


TIAN  had  been  delivered  in  his  deepest  and 
darkest  extremity  —  the  weapon  of  All- 
prayer.  "  So  they  cried  and  prayed."  God 
will  not  conduct  them  out  of  that  dark 
place  without  being  inquired  of  concerning 
these  things. 

Their  need  is  felt ;  their  prayer  is  offered  ; 


the  prayer  is  heard — yea,  it  is  answered — 
"  and  God  sent  light  and  deliverance  I" 

Maul,  a  giant. — The  former  narrative 
places  the  cave  of  Giants  Pope  and  Pagan 
at  the  end  of  this  valley.  In  this  Allegory 
another  giant  is  represented  as  issuing  forth 
from  this    same  cave.     The  name  of   this 


OLD    lIONpST 


"t'  .'    ■'  ■  *■■ 


"THE   MAN   COULD   LOOK  NO   WAY   BUT   DOWNWARDS." 


Amcyng  the  Snares. 


353 


GREAT-HEART  KILLS  GIANT  MAUL. 

many  are  killed  hereabouts,  and  yet  men  are  so  foolishly  venturous 
as  to  set  out  lightly  on  pilgrimage,  and  come  without  a  guide.  Poor 
Christian  !  it  was  a  wonder  that  he  here  escaped.  But  he  was  beloved 
of  his  God  ;  also  he  had  a  good  heart  oi"  his  own,  or  else  he  cotild 
never  have  done  it. 

Now  they  drew  towards  the  end  of  this  way ;  and  just  where 
Christian  had  seen  the  cave  when  he  went  by,  out  of  thence  came  forth 
Maul,  a  giant.  This  Maul  did  use  to  spoil  young  pilgrims  with 
sophistry ;  and  he  called  Great-heart  by  his  name,  and  said  unto  him, 
How  many  times  have  you  been  forbidden  to  do  these  things?  Then 
said  Mr.  Great-heart,  What  things  ?  What  things  !  quoth  the  giant; 
you  know  what  things ;  but  I  will  put  an  end  to  your  trade.  But 
pray,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  before  we  fall  to  it,  let  us  understand 
wherefore  we  must  fight.  (Now  the  women  and  children  stood 
trembling,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.)     Quoth  the  giant,  You  rob  tl" 

23 


354 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


country,  and  rob  it  with  the  worst  of  thefts.     These  are  L,jt  generals, 
said  Mr.  Great-heart;  come  to  particulars,  man. 

Then  said  the  giant,  Thou  practisest  the  craft  of  a  kidnapper ; 
thou  gatherest  up  women  and  children,  and  carriest  them  into  a 
strange  country,  to  the  weakening  of  my  master's  kingdom.  But  now 
Great-heart  replied,  I  am  a  servant  of  the  God  of  heaven  ;  my  busi- 
ness is  to  persuade  sinners  to  repentance  ;  I  am  commanded  to  do  my 
endeavors  to  turn  men,  women  and  children  "  from  darkness  to  light) 
and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God  ;"  and  if  this  be  indeed  the 
ground  of  thy  quarrel,  let  us  fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou  wilt. 

Then  the  giant  came  up,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  to  meet  him; 
and  as  he  went  he  drew  his  sword  ;  but  the  giant  had  a  club.  So, 
without  more  ado,  they  fell  to  it,  and  at  the  first  blow  the  giant  struck 
Mr.  Great-heart  down  upon  one  of  his  knees.  With  that  the  women 
and  children  cried  out;  so  Mr.  Great-heart,  recovering  himself,  laid 
about  him  in  a  full  lusty  manner,  and  gave  the  giant  a  wound  in  his 
arm  ;  thus  he  fought  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  to  that  height  of  heat 
that  the  breath  came  out  of  the  giant's  nostrils  as  the  heat  doth  out 
of  a  boiling  caldron. 

Then  they  set  down  to  rest  them  ;  but  Mr.  Great-heart  betook 
himself  to  prayer;  also  the  women  and  children  did  nothing  but  sigh 
and  cry  all  the  time  that  the  battle  did  last. 

"When  they  had  rested  them,  and  taken  breath,  they  both  fell  to  it 
again  ;  and  Mr.  Great-heart,  with  a  full  blow,  fetched  the  giant  down 
to  the  ground.  Nay,  hold,  let  me  recover,  quoth  he  ;  so  Mr.  Great- 
heart  let  him  fairly  get  up.  So  to  it  they  went  again,  and  the  giant 
missed  but  little  of  breaking  Mr.  Great-heart's  skull  with  his  club. 
Mr.  Great-heart  seeing  that,  runs  to  him  in  the  full  heat  of  his  spirit, 
and  pierceth  him  under  the  fiTth  rib.  With  that  the  giant  began  to 
faint,  and  could  hold  up  his  club  no  longer.  Then  Mr.  Great-heart 
seconded    his    blow,  and  smote  the    head  of  the    giant    from    his 


giant  is  Maul.  This  new  enemy  is  sup- 
posed to  mean  some  vigorous  State  persecu- 
tion, which,  in  persecuting  policy  and  power, 
may  be  said  to  have  taken  the  place  of  the 
former  giants  of  the  place.  Bunyan's  own 
day,  alas !  experienced  the  hand  of  power 
and  the  "club"  of  persecution;  and  it 
needed  such  a  one  as  Great-heart  to 
breast  the  impetuous  waves  and  stay  the 
tide  of  wrath.  And,  in  God's  mercy,  those 
days    were    shortened.     And  while  great- 


hearted men  stood  forth  as  the  defenders  of 
the  weak,  and  engaged  in  moral  combat 
against  the  persecuting  statutes  of  the  period, 
the  weaker  ones  stood  by,  as  Christiana 
and  her  children  did,  and  watched  the  issue 
of  the  fight,  until,  by-and-by,  the  faith  and 
steadfastness  of  a  noble  few  opened  the  gates 
of  liberty  to  all  ;  and,  thank  God,  those 
gates  of  freedom  have  never  since  been 
utterly  closed,  at  least  in  these  lands. 


They  rejoice  at  the  Deliverance. 


355 


shoulders.  Then  the  women  and  children  rejoiced,  and  Mr.  Great- 
heart  also  praised  God  for  the  deliverance  he  had  wrought.  When 
this  was  done,  they  among  them  erected  a  pillar,  and  fastened  the 
giant's  head  thereon,  and  wrote  under  it,  in  letters  that  ^  -^ssenger.'* 
might  read : 


He  that  did  wear  this  head  was  one 

That  pilgrims  did  misuse  : 
He  stopp'd  their  way,  he  spared  none, 

But  did  them  all  abuse  ; 


Until  that  I,  Great-heart,  arose, 
The  pilgrims'  guide  to  be  ; 

Until  that  I  did  him  oppose. 
That  was  their  enemy. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Mr.  Honest  and  Mr.  Fearing. 

Mr.  Honest  and  Mr.  Fearing  are  two  characters  magnificently  drawn  by  the  sicifi 
of  the  Dreamer,  who  has  thereby  set  before  his  readers  two  very  sublime  descriptions  of 
men  of  God — characters,  however,  which  are  essentially  unlike,  except  in  just  one  point  of 
similitude — that  they  were  both  Pilgrims,  with  their  faces  Zionward. 

;0W  I  saw  that  they  went  on  to  the  ascent  that  was  a  Httle 
way  off  cast  up  to  be  a  prospect  for  pilgrims;  that  was 
the  place  from  whence  Christian  had  the  first  sight  o( 
Faithful  his  brother.  Wherefore  here  they  sat  down  and 
rested  ;  they  also  here  did  eat  and  drink,  and  make 
merry,  for  that  they  had  gotten  deliverance  from  this  so  dangerous  an 
Miemy.  As  they  sat  thus  and  did  eat,  Christiana  asked  the  guide  if 
.le  had  got  no  hurt  in  the  battle.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  No, 
save  a  little  on  my  flesh  ;  yet  that  also  shall  be  so  far  from  being  to 
my  detriment,  that  it  is  at  present  a  proof  of  my  love  to  my  Master 
and  you,  and  shall  be  a  means,  by  grace,  to  increase  my  reward  at 
last. 

Chr.  But  you  were  not  afraid,  good  sir,  when  you  saw  him  come 
with  his  club  ? 

It  is  my  duty,  said  he,  to  mistrust  my  own  ability,  that  I  may 
have  reliance  on  him  who  is  stronger  than  all  (2  Cor.  4). 

Chr.  But  what  did  you  think  when  he  fetched  you  down  to  the 
ground  at  the  first  blow  ? 

Why,  I  thought,  quoth  he,  that  so  my  Master  himself  was  served, 
and  yet  he  it  was  that  conquered  at  last. 

Matt.  When  you  all  have  thought  what  you  please,  I  think  God 
has  been  wonderfully  good  unto  us,  both  in  bringing  us  out  of  this 
valley,  and  in  delivering  us  out  of  the  hand  of  this  enemy ;  for  my 


They  went  to  the  ascent. — The  same  stand- 
point from  whence  Christian  had  espied 
Faithful  in  the  distance,  now  serves  as  a 
place  of  rest,  and  for  pu/pose  of  refresh- 
ment, after  the  hard  encounter  of  C.reat- 
UEART  with  Giant  Maul,  and  the  painful 


anxiety  of  the  Pilgrims  as  to  the  issue  of  the 
conflict.  At  this  point,  too,  where  Christian 
had  sought  for  fellowship  and  communion, 
our  present  Pilgrims  enjoy  this  privilege ;  he 
was  but  one,  and  they  are  many.  So,  thev 
take  occasion  to  talk  of  the  lute  mercy  ani 


(356) 


The  Pilgrims  eticotinter  Mr.  Honest. 


357 


part,  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  distrust  our  God  any  more,  since 
he  has  now,  and  in  such  a  place  as  this,  given  us  such  testimony  ol 
his  love. 

Then  they  got  up  and  went  forward.  Now  a  little  before  them 
stood  an  oak;  and  under  it,  when  they  came  to  it,  they  found  an  old 
pilgrim  fast  asleep ;  they  knew  that  he  was  a  pilgrim  by  his  clothes, 
and  his  staff  and  his  girdle. 

So  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  awaked  him  ;  and  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  cried  out.  What's  the  matter?  Who 
are  you  ?  and  what  is  your  business  here  ? 

Great.  Come,  man,  be  not  so  hot,  here  are  none  but  friends. 
Yet  the  old  man  gets  up  and  stands  upon  his  guard,  and  will  know 
of  them  what  they  are.  Then  said  the  guide,  My  name  is  Great- 
heart  ;  I  am  the  guide  of  these  pilgrims,  which  are  going  to  the 
Celestial  Country. 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  I  cry  your  mercy ;  I  feared  that  you  had 
been  of  the  company  of  those  that  some  time  ago  did  rob  Little-faith 
of  his  money ;  but  now  I  look  better  about  me  I  perceive  you  are 
honester  people. 

Great.  Why,  what  would  or  could  you  have  done  to  have 
helped  yourself,  if  indeed  we  had  been  of  that  company? 

Hon.  Done !  why,  I  would  have  fought  as  long  as  breath  had 
been  in  me  ;  and  had  I  so  done,  I  am  sure  you  could  never  have  giveq 
me  the  worst  on't ;  for  a  Christian  can  never  be  overcome,  unless  he 
should  yield  himself 

Well  said,  father  Honest,  quoth  the  guide  ;  for  by  this  I  know 
that  thou  art  a  cock  of  the  right  kind,  for  thou  hast  said  the  truth. 

Hon.  And  by  this  also  I  know  that  thou  knowest  what  true  pil- 
grimage is  ;  for  all  others  do  think  that  we  are  the  soonest  overcome 
of  any. 


deliverance  vouchsafed   to   them,  and    are 
thankful. 

An  old  Pilgrim,  fast  asleep. — This  is  old 
Mr.  HONE.ST,  who  is  now,  for  the  first  time, 
introduced  to  our  notice.  Whether  this  was 
a  time  and  place  allowed  for  sleep,  we  can- 
not well  decide.  He  certainly  awaked  with 
a  shock  of  fear,  as  though  from  a  forbidden 
or  unlawful  slumber ;  and  yet  his  conscience 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  at  all  uneasy, 
for  he  begins  to  testify  wherein  is  his  con- 
fidence, and  what  would  be  his  conscious 


strength  in  case  of  any  assault  by  the  bandits 
of  the  way. 

What  would  you  have  done  ? — Mr.  Hon- 
est is  a  brave  old  Pilgrim.  His  bold  speech, 
in  answer  to  Great-heart's  question,  at 
once  shows  what  style  of  man  he  is,  and 
seems  rather  to  amuse  the  great  warrior- 
guide.  They  are  two  like-minded  men — 
very  brave,  very  trustful,  and  therefore  very 
joyous. 

My  name  I  cannot. — This  good  man  is  not 
presumptuous  or  proud.     His  spirit  ■of  hi^ 


358  The  Pilgrim! s  Progress, 

Great.  Well,  now  we  are  so  happily  met,  let  mc  crave  your 
name,  and  the  name  of  the  place  you  came  from  ? 

Hon.  My  name  I  cannot ;  but  I  came  from  the  town  of  Stupidity; 
it  lieth  about  four  leagues  beyond  the  City  of  Destruction. 

Great.  Oh !  are  you  that  countryman  ?  Then  I  deem  I  have 
half  a  guess  of  you;  your  name  is  Old  Honesty,  is  it  not?  So  the 
old  gentleman  blushed,  and  said.  Not  Honesty  in  the  abstract ;  but 
Honest  is  my  najue,  and  I  wish  my  7iature  may  agree  to  what  I  am 
called. 

But,  sir,  said  the  old  gentleman,  how  could  you  guess  that  I  am 
such  a  man,  since  I  came  from  such  a  place  ? 

Great.  I  have  heard  of  you  before  by  my  Master,  for  he  knows 
all  things  that  are  done  on  the  earth  ;  but  I  have  often  wondered  that 
any  should  come  from  your  place,  for  your  town  is  worse  than  is  the 
City  of  Destruction  itself. 

Hon.  Yes,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun,  and  so  are  more  cold 
and  senseless  ;  but,  were  a  man  in  a  mountain  of  ice,  yet,  if  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness  should  arise  upon  him,  his  frozen  heart  shall  feel  a 
thaw.     And  thus  it  has  been  with  me. 

Great.  I  believe  it,  father  Honest,  I  believe  it ;  for  I  know  the 
thintr  is  true. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with  a  holy  kiss 
of  charity,  and  asked  of  them  their  names,  and  how  they  had  fared 
since  they  had  set  out  on  their  pilgrimage. 

Then  said  Christiana,  My  n?me  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of; 
good  Christian  was  my  husband,  and  these  four  are  his  children. 
But  can  you  think  how  the  old  gentleman  was  taken,  when  she  told 


mility  is  apparent  from  the  first.  He  deems 
his  name  to  be  too  good  for  him,  and  better 
than  his  nature  ;  and  lest  he  should  seem  to 
make  undue  pretensions  by  parading  his 
name,  he  chooses  rather  to  tell  his  origin, 
which  is  not  so  fair  or  flattering.  We  are 
thus  informed  that  he  is  not  one  of  the  wise, 
mighty,  noble,  or  learned,  but  that  he  is  (as 
others  may  be)  "honest"  for  all  that.  He 
does  not  forget  the  rock  from  which  he  was 
hewn,  nor  the  hole  of  the  pit  from  whence 
he  was  digged.  Out  of  the  same  region  as 
Destruction,  and  from  no  very  promising 
pedigree,  has  he  proceeded.  He  feels,  how- 
ever, the  great  spiritual  change  that  has  been 


HEART  tells  him  he  knows  it  all,  Old  Honest 
"  blushes  to  find  it  fame." 

Your  name  is  Old  Honesty. — And  when 
Great-heart  does  name  his  name  it  is 
somewhat  higher  and  more  honorable  than 
even  that  by  which  he  calls  himself.  "  Not 
Honesty  in  the  Abstract,"  says  the  good  old 
man,  showing  that  he  has  learned  some  of 
the  sci-ince  of  Christian  philosophy  since  he 
left  the  town  of  "  Stupidity."  And  he  is 
right.  Honesty  in  the  abstract  would  mean 
the  possession  of  that  virtue  in  perfection 
and  in  all  its  power;  but  "  Honest  "  means 
that  he  is  aiming  to  attain  that  goodly  char- 
acteristic. 


wrought   in    his    soul ;    and    when    Great-  And   this    man's    change   was   indeed   a 


Mr.  Honest  joinetfi  the  Pilgrims. 


359 


hKi  •;^ho  she  was  !  He  skipped,  he  smiled,  and  blessed  them  with  2 
th  usand  good  wishes,  saying,  I  have  heard  much  of  your  husband 
and  of  his  travels  and  wars  which  he  underwent  in  his  days.  Be  ii 
sp-^ker*  to  your  comfort,  the  name  of  your  husband  rings  all  over  these 
parts  (J  the  world;  his  faith,  his  courage,  his  enduring,  and  his  sin- 
cerity ;inder  all  have  made  his  name  famous.  Then  he  turned  him 
to  the  boys,  and  asked  of  them  their  names,  which  they  told  him. 
And  th^n  said  he  unto  them,  Matthew,  be  thou  like  Matthew  the  pub- 
lican, rotin  vice  but  in  virtue  (Matt.  lo:  3).  Samuel,  said  he,  be  thou 
like  Spjnuel  the  prophet,  a  man  of  faith  and  prayer  (Ps.  99:  6). 
Joseph,  said  he,  be  thou  like  Joseph  in  Potiphar's  house,  chaste,  and 
one  ihst  flies  from  temptation  (Gen.  39).  And,  James,  be  thou  like 
Jame>  the  Just,  and  like  James  the  brother  of  our  Lord  (i\cts  i  :  13, 
14).  Then  they  told  him  of  Mercy,  and  how  she  had  left  her  own 
town  and  her  kindred  to  come  along  with  Christiana  and  with  her  sons. 
At  thit  tl  e  old  honest  man  said,  Mercy  is  thy  name  ;  by  7nercy  thou 
shalt  be  i^.ustained,  and  carried  through  all  those  difficulties  that  shall 
assault  thee  in  thy  way,  till  thou  shalt  come  thither  where  thou  shalt 
look  the  fountain  of  Mercy  in  the  face  with  comfort. 

All  th  is  while  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  was  very  well  pleased, 
and  smiled  upon  his  companion. 

Now,  as  they  walked  along  together,  the  guide  asked  the  old 
gentleman  if  he  did  not  know  one  Mr.  Fearing,  that  came  on  pilgrim- 
age out  of  his  parts. 

Yes,  A  ery  well,  said  he.  He  was  a  man  that  had  "  the  root  of  the 
matter  in  h  im  ;  "  but  he  was  one  of  the  most  troublesome  pilgrims  that 
ever  I  met  with  in  all  my  days. 

Great  I  perceive  you  knew  him  ;  for  you  have  given  a  very 
right  chara  ;ter  of  him. 

Hon.    Knew  him  !  I  was  a  great  companion  of  his  ;  I  was  with  him 


great  one  ;  from  a  state  worse  than  that  of 
Destruction  its-lf,  farther  removed  from  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  and  yet  (oh,  great 
miracle  of  grac-; !)  the  hght-bearing,  hfe-giv- 
ing  rays  of  the  light  of  the  World  penetrated 
even  to  that  coia,  dark,  senseless  place,  and 
warmed  the  heart  of  this  man  into  love  to 
God  in  Christ. 

One  Mr.  Fearing. — We  do  well  to  give 
heed  to  the  description  of  this  man's  spirit- 
ual character,  h  illustrates  another  phase 
of  spiritual  life.     He    was   known  to    Mr. 


Honest,  but  much  better  known  to  Great- 
heart,  who  had  been  the  convoy  of  his 
pilgrimage,  as  he  now  is  of  Christiana's 
company.  From  Great-heart's  descrip- 
tion of  this  worthy  Pilgrim,  we  are  enabled 
to  obtain  a  very  picture  of  the  man  and  of 
his  spiritual  state ;  and  the  whole  scene 
forms  a  study  in  itself  for  the  Christian  man 
— a  combination  of  natural  weakness  and  of 
spiritual  strength ;  of  constitutional  depres- 
sion, and  )et  of  holy  determination,  that, 
come  what  may,  he  would  still  hold  on  to 


860 


The  Pilgrim* s  Progress. 


most  an  end.   When  he  first  began  to  think  of  what  would  come  upon 
us  hereafter,  I  was  with  him. 

Great.    I  was  his  guide  from  my  Master's  house  to  the  gate  o' 
the  Celestial  City. 

Hon,    Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a  troublesome  one. 

Great.  I  did  so  ;  but  I  could  very  well  bear  it ;  for  men  of  my 
callinof  are  ofttimes  intrusted  with  the  conduct  of  such  as  he  was. 

Hon.  Why,  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a  little  of  him,  and  how  he 
managed  himself  under  your  conduct? 

Great.  Why,  he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should  come  short  of 
whither  he  had  a  desire  to  go.  Everything  frightened  him  that  he 
heard  anybody  speak  of,  if  it  had  but  the  least  appearance  of  opposi- 
tion in  it.  I  have  heard  that  he  lay  roaring  at  the  Slough  of  Despond 
for  above  a  month  together ;  nor  durst  he,  for  all  he  saw  several  go 
over  before  him,  venture,  though  they,  many  of  them,  offered  to  lend 
him  their  hands.  He  would  not  go  back  again  neither.  The  Celestial 
City,  he  said  he  should  die  if  he  came  not  to  it;  and  yet  he  was  de- 
jected at  every  difficulty,  and  stumbled  at  every  straw  that  anybody 
cast  in  his  way.  Well,  after  he  had  lain  at  the  Slough  of  Despond  a 
great  while,  as  I  have  told  you,  one  sunshiny  morning,  J  don't  know 
\ovj,  he  ventured,  and  so  got  over.  But  when  he  was  over,  he  would 
^^arce  believe  it.  He  had,  I  think,  a  Slough  of  Despond  in  his 
mind,  a  slough  that  he  carried  everywhere  with  him,  or  else  he 
could  never  have  been  as  he  was.  So  he  came  up  to  the  gate  (you 
know  what  I  mean)  that  stands  at  the  head  of  this  way  ;  and  there 
also  he  stood  a  eood  while  before  he  could  venture  to  knock.  When 
the  gate  was  opened,  he  would  give  back,  and  give  place  to  others, 
and  say  that  he  was  not  worthy  ;  and,  for  all  he  got  before  some  to 
the  gate,  yet  many  of  them  went  in  before  him.  There  the  poor 
man  would  stand  shaking  and  shrinking.  I  dare  say  it  would  have 
pitied  one's  heart  to  have  seen  him  ;  nor  would  he  go  back  again. 
At  last  he  took  the  hammer  that  hanged  on  the  gate  in  his  hand, 
and  gave  a  small  rap  or  two  ;  then  one  opened  to  him,  but  he  shrunk 
back  as  before.     He  that  opened  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said, 


his  pilgrimage.  We  will  follow  Great- 
heart's  review  of  this  man's  strangely 
checkered  career  in  its  successive  stages : 

At  the  Slough  of  Despond. — Here  he 
would  be  peculiarly  liable  to  suffer  loss,  his 
own  nature  being  in  such  near  conformity 
to   the   spirit  of  this   miry   place.     Even  a 


straw  would  suffice  to  stumble  him ;  and 
where  a  more  sanguine  spirit  would  see  a 
possibility  of  escape,  he  could  see  none.  His 
soul  refused  to  be  comforted.  Despond  was 
not  merely  a  stage  of  his  pilgrimage,  but  l^he 
very  type  of  the  man  himself. 

At  the   Wicket-gate. — The   entrance-gate 


How  Mr.  Fearing  fared. 


S61 


FEARING  AT  THE  INTERPRETER'S  DOOR. 

Thou  tiemblinjj-  one,  what  wantest  cnou  ?  With  that  he  feh  iown  to 
the  ground.  He  that  spake  to  him  wondered  to  see  him  so  faint ;  so 
he  said  to  him,  Peace  be  to  thee.  Up,  for  I  have  set  open  the  door 
to  thee  ;  come  in,  for  thou  art  blessed.  With  that  he  got  up,  and 
went  in  trembHnor ;  and  when  he  was  in,  he  was  ashamed  to  show 
his  face.  Well,  after  he  had  been  entertained  there  a  while  (as  you 
know  how  the  manner  is),  he  was  bid  to  go  on  his  way,  and  also 
told  the  way  he  should  take.  So  he  went  on  till  he  came  to  our 
house  ;  but  as  he  behaved  himself  at  the  gate,  so  he  did  at  my 
Master  the  Interpreter's  door.     He  lay  thereabout  in  the  cold  a  good 


of  the  Narrow-way  is  a  place  of  promise  and 
command  :  "  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you."  Yet,  here  he  hesitated  to  obey  the 
command,  and  therefore  so  long  postponed 
the  enjoyment  of  the  promise.     Such  a  one. 


in  the  depression  of  his  heart,  has  no  bold- 
ness ;  he  fears  to  knock,  or  to  arour .;  the 
Master ;  and  when  at  last  he  does  kn_^k,  i( 
is  with  so  feeble  a  hand  as  scarcely  to  bt 
heard.     Yet  the    ear  of  the  porter  at   the 


362  The  Pit  grim' s  P?' ogress. 

while  before  he  would  adventure  to  call ;  yet  he  would  not  go  back, 
and  the  nights  were  long  and  cold  then.  Nay,  he  had  a  note  of 
necessity  in  his  bosom  to  my  Master,  to  receive  him  and  grant  him 
the  comfort  of  his  house,  and  also  to  allow  him  a  stout  and  valiant 
conductor,  because  he  was  himself  so  chicken-hearted  a  man  ;  and 
yet  for  all  that  he  was  afraid  to  call  at  the  door.  So  he  lay  up  and 
down  thereabouts,  till,  poor  man  !  he  was  almost  starved ;  yea,  so 
great  was  his  dejection,  that,  although  he  saw  several  others  for 
knocking  get  in,  yet  he  was  afraid  to  venture.  At  last,  I  think,  1 
looked  out  of  the  window,  and  perceiving  a  man  to  be  up  and  down 
about  the  door,  I  went  out  to  him,  and  asked  what  he  was  ;  but, 
poor  man  !  the  water  stood  in  his  eyes ;  so  I  perceived  what  he 
wanted.  I  went  therefore  in,  and  told  it  in  the  house,  and  w-e 
showed  the  thing  to  our  Lord  ;  so  he  sent  me  out  again,  to  entreat 
him  to  come  in  ;  but,  I  dare  say,  I  had  hard  work  to  do  it.  At  last 
he  came  in  ;  and  I  will  say  that  for  my  Lord,  he  carried  it  wonder- 
fully loving  to  him.  There  were  but  a  few  good  bits  at  the  table, 
but  some  of  it  was  laid  upon,  his  trencher.  Then  he  presented  the 
note,  and  my  Lord  looked  thereon,  and  said  his  desire  should  be 
granted.  So,  when  he  had  been  there  a  good  while,  he  seemed  to 
get  some  heart  and  to  be  a  little  more  comfortable.  For  my  Master, 
you  must  know,  is  one  of  very  tender  bowels,  especially  to  them 
that  are  afraid ;  wherefore  he  carried  it  so  towards  him  as  might 
tend  most  to  his  encouragement.  Well,  when  he  had  had  a  sight  of 
the  things  of  the  place,  and  was  ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to 
the  City,  my  Lord,  as  he  did  to  Christian  before,  gave  him  a  bottle 
of  spirits  and  some  comfortable  things  to  eat.  Thus  we  set  for- 
ward, and  I  went  before  him  ;  but  the  man  was  but  of  few  words, 
only  he  would  sigh  aloud. 

When  we  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  three  fellows  were 
hanged,  he  said  that  he  doubted  that  that  would  be  his  end  also. 
Only  he  seemed  glad   when  he  saw  the  cross  and  the  sepulchre. 


gate  is  quick  to  catch  the  faintest  sound  of 
the  inquiring  sinner  ;  and  to  these  trembling 
ones  he  speaks  words  of  peace,  and  presents 
an  open  door  of  pardon  and  acceptance. 

At  the  Interpreter  s  house. — To  this  house 
of  call  he  had  an  invitation  and  a  note  of 
introduction,  and  yet  he  feared  to  enter  or 
to  ask  the  favors  he  required.     Here  the  In- 


infirmities,"  and  pours  out  the  abundance  of 
his  love  towards  him  ;  and,  because  the  m;iii 
is  lowly  and  abased,  the  Spirit  welcomes  limi 
the  more,  pours  consolation  into  his  bosom, 
reassures  his  doubting  heart,  and  also  pro- 
vides Great-heart  as  his  conductor. 

At  the  Cross. — His  fearful  spirit   was  re- 
freshed as  he  lingered  beside  the  Cross  and 


TERPRETER  (the  Holy   Spirit)  "  helpeth  his   i  the   Sepulchre.     Kindred   sympathies  were 


Great-heart  s  Description  of  Mr.  Fearing. 


363 


There  I  confess  he  desired  to  stay  a  little  to  look,  and  he  seemed 
for  a  while  after  to  be  a  little  cheery.  When  he  came  to  the  hill 
Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at  that,  nor  did  he  much  fear  the  lions ; 
for  you  must  know  that  his  trouble  was  not  about  such  things  as 
these  ;  his  fear  was  about  his  acceptance  at  last. 

I  got  him  into  the  house  Beautiful,  I  think,  before  he  was  will- 
ing ;  also,  when  he  was  in,  I  brought  him  acquainted  with  the  dam- 
sels of  the  place,  but  he  was  ashamed  to  make  himself  much  in 
company ;  he  desired  much  to  be  alone,  yet  he  always  loved  good 
talk,  and  often  would  get  behind  the  screen  to  hear  it ;  he  always 
loved  much  to  see  ancient  things,  and  to  be  pondering  them  in  his 
mind.  He  told  me  afterwards,  that  he  loved  to  be  in  those  two 
houses  from  which  he  came  last,  to  wit,  at  the  gate,  and  that  of  the 
Interpreter,  but  that  he  durst  not  be  so  bold  as  to  ask. 

When  we  went  also  from  the  house  Beautiful  down  the  hill, 
into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  he  went  down  as  well  as  ever  I  saw 
a  man  in  my  life  ;  for  he  cared  not  how  mean  he  was,  so  he  might 
be  happy  at  last.  Yea,  I  think  there  was  a  kind  of  sympathy  be- 
twixt that  valley  and  him  ;  for  I  nevei  saw  him  better  in  all  his  pil- 
grimage than  he  was  in  that  valley.  Here  he  would  lie  down,  em- 
brace the  ground,  and  kiss  the  very  flowers  that  grew  in  this  valley 
(Lam.  3  :  27-29).  He  would  now  be  up  every  morning  by  break 
of  day,  tracing  and  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  I  thought  I  should  have  lost  my  man  ;  not  for 


awakened  in  his  breast  as  he  contemplated 
that  scene  of  the  Saviour's  sufferings.  The 
great  love  of  Jesus,  the  cross  and  passion, 
the  blood  of  Christ,  the  agony  and  the  death 
of  the  great  sacrifice — these  topics  revive  and 
refresh  his  spirit ;  for  this  good  man  did  love 
the  Saviour  with  devoted  love,  though  with 
a  weak  power  of  faith. 

At  the  hill  Difficulty. — Here  he  felt  no  such 
drawbacks  as  other  Pilgrims  had  encoun- 
tered. His  fears  were  not  earthly  fears,  but 
spiritual ;  not  about  his  body,  but  about  his 
soul.  Therefore  the  "lions"  of  persecution 
alarmed  him  not  His  fear  was  for  the  safety 
of  the  jewel,  not  of  the  setting ;  for  the  pearl 
of  great  price,  not  of  the  earthen  casket  that 
contained  it. 

The  house  Beautiful. — His  constitutional 
diffidence  still  haunts  him,  and  restrains  him 


from  the  free  interchange  of  Christian  com- 
munion. He  fears  to  make  an  open  profes 
sion  of  religion,  or  to  raise  expectations  as  to 
his  own  spiritual  state ;  and  yet  he  longs  to 
hear  the  conversation  of  those  that  fear  his 
much-loved  Saviour.  He  therefore,  rather 
by  stealth  than  openly,  listens  to  the  sweet 
communion  of  the  palace,  and  is  comforted 

In  the  Valley  of  Humiliation.  ~Th.\s  would 
seem  to  be  his  native  air  and  the  abode  of 
his  choice;  and,  accordingly,  here  he  was 
perfectly  at  home  \and  at  ease.  He  loved 
the  deepness  of  this  low-lying  vale,  its 
quietude  and  its  peace.  Here  he  could  in- 
dulge the  spirit  of  lowliness,  and  rejoice  to 
say.  as  the  Psalmist  said  :  "  My  soul  is  even 
as  a  weaned  child  "  (Ps.  131  :  2). 

In  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. — 
This  would  be  the  crisis  of  the  fears  of  such 


364 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


that  he  had  any  inclination  to  go  back  (that  he  always  abhorred) 
';ut  he  was  ready  to  die  for  fear.  Oh,  the  hobgoblins  will  have 
me  !  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me !  cried  he ;  and  I  could  not  beat 
him  out  of  it.  He  made  such  a  noise  and  such  an  outcry  here,  that, 
had  the)-  but  heard  him,  it  was  enough  to  encourage  them  to  come 
and  fall  upon  us.  But  this  I  took  very  great  notice  of,  that  this  val- 
ley was  as  quiet  when  he  went  through  it  as  ever  I  knew  it  before 
or  since.  I  suppose  those  enemies  here  had  now  a  special  check 
from  our  Lord,  and  a  command  not  to  meddle  until  Mr.  Fearing 
had  passed  over  it. 

It  would  be  too  tedious  to  tell  you  of  all ;  we  will  therefore 
only  mention  a  passage  or  two  more.  When  he  was  come  to  Van- 
ity Fair,  I  thought  he  would  have  fought  with  all  the  men  in  the 
fair  ;  I  feared  there  we  should  have  been  both  knocked  on  the  head, 
so  ho*-  was  he  against  their  fooleries.  Upon  the  Enchanted  Ground 
he  alsv;  was  very  wakeful.  But  when  he  was  come  at  the  river 
where  was  no  bridge,  there  again  he  was  in  a  heavy  case.  Now, 
now,  he  said,  he  should  be  drowned  forever,  and  so  never  see  that 
face  with  comfort  that  he  had  come  so  many  miles  to  behold.  And 
here  also  I  took  notice  of  what  was  very  remarkable :  the  water  of 
that  river  was  lower  at  this  time  than  ever  I  saw  it  in  all  my  life ;  so 
he  went  over  at  last,  not  much  above  wet-shod.  When  he  was 
going  up  to  the  gate,  I  began  to  take  my  leave  of  him,  and  to  wish 
him  a  good  reception  above ;  so  he  said,  I  shall !  I  shall !  Then 
parted  we  asunder,  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

Hon.    Then,  it  seems  he  was  well  at  last  ? 


a  fearful  and  faint-hearted  man.  Here  are 
spiritual  dangers — those  that  most  of  all 
were  the  terror  of  his  soul.  You  see  the 
goodness  of  the  Lord  in  measuring  out  the 
proportion  of  discipline  to  his  sensitive  and 
fearful  children  !  The  Valley  was  still  and 
quiet — no  dread  visions  of  darkness  and  of 
the  deep  ;  no  strong  assaults  of  the  Evil  One. 
Demons  and  devils  were  restrained  in  their 
dens  that  day,  till  Mr.  Fearing  had  over- 
passed the  valley.  Oh,  ye  feeble-minded 
men  !  be  strong,  be  comforted !  God  hath 
not  forgotten  you  ;  he  will  be  better  to  you 
than  all  your  fears. 

In  Vanity  Fair. — Here,  again,  his  fears 
are  proved  not  to  have  been  carnal  fears — 
of  man  or  of  earthly  things.  In  Vanity  Fair, 
and  in  his  intercourse  with  its  vain  inhabi- 


tants, he  was  bold  as  a  Hon,  reproving  and 
rebuking  the  men  of  the  fair  and  their  vain 
and  profitless  vanities.  He  had  not  the  fear 
of  man  before  his  eyes,  but  ever  Hved  as  in 
the  sight  of  God,  his  conscience  ever  tender, 
his  heart  ever  fearful,  lest  he  should  in  any- 
wise offend,  and  so  lose  his  acceptance  at 
the  last. 

At  ihi  fords  of  the  River. — His  fears  were 
at  all  times  great ;  but  the  provisions  of  God's 
grace  were  in  proportion  large.  Once  more 
the  way  is  made  easy  before  him,  and,  in 
the  passage  of  the  River  of  Death,  God's 
good  mercy  is  upon  him.  Instead  of  depths 
to  pass  through,  he  has  shallows  to  wade  in  ; 
instead  of  troubles  answerable  to  his  fears, 
he  is  assured  that  all  is  well  at  last ;  and  thus, 
without  a  pang,  and  in  fuller  assurance  than 


MR.  FEARING  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION. 


366 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Great.  Yes,  yes  ;  I  never  had  a  doubt  about  him  ;  he  was  a 
man  of  a  choice  spirit ;  only  he  was  always  kept  very  low,  and  that 
made  his  life  so  burdensome  to  himself  and  so  very  troublesome  to 
others  (Ps.  88).  He  was,  above  many,  tender  of  sin;  he  was  so 
afraid  of  doing  injuries  to  others,  that  he  often  would  deny  himself 
of  that  which  was  lawful,  because  he  would  not  offend  (Rom.  14:  21  ; 
I  Cor.  8:13). 

Hun.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a  good  man 
should  be  all  his  days  so  much  in  the  dark  ? 

Great.  There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it.  One  is,  the  wise 
God  will  have  it  so  (Matt.  11  :  16,  17);  some  must  pipe,  and  some 
must  weep  ;  now  Mr.  Fearing  was  one  that  played  upon  the  bass. 
He  and  his  fellows  sound  the  sackbut,  whose  notes  are  more  doleful 
than  the  notes  of  other  music  are  ;  though,  indeed,  same  say  the  bass 
is  the  ground  of  music.  And,  for  my  part,  I  care  not  at  all  for  that 
profession  that  begins  not  in  heaviness  of  mind.  The  first  string 
that  the  musician  usually  touches  is  the  bass,  when  he  intends  to  put 
all  in  tune  ;  God  also  plays  upon  this  string  first,  when  he  sets  the 
soul  in  tune  for  himself.  Only  there  was  the  imperfection  of  Mr. 
Fearing  ;  he  could  play  upon  no  other  music  but  this  till  towards  his 
latter  end. 

[I  make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically,  for  the  ripening  of  the 
wits  of  young  readers  ;  and  because  in  the  Book  of  Revelation  the 
saved  are  compared  to  a  company  of  musicians,  that  play  upon  their 
trumpets  and  harps,  and  sing  their  songs  before  the  throne  (Rev.  7  ; 
H--2,  3).] 

Hon.  He  was  a  very  zealous  man,  as  one  may  see  by  that 
relation  which  you  have  given  of  him.  Difficulties,  lions,  or  Vanity 
Fair  he  feared  not  at  all ;  it  was  only  sin,  death,  and  hell  that  were  to 
him  a  terror;  because  he  had  some  doubts  about  his  interest  in  that 
celestial  country. 


he  had  ever  felt  before,  he  passed  the  fords 
of  the  river  almost  dry-shod,  and  entered 
into  joy  and  peace  and  rest. 

This  is,  indeed,  a  marvellous  picture  of  a 
true  Pilgrim — with  love  so  warm,  to  have 
fears  so  great ;  so  loving  and  so  humble,  and 
yet  so  doubtful  and  desponding  !  His  lack 
of  confidence  in  himself  prevented  his  full 
enjoyment  of  Christian  privilege.  He  looked, 
perhaps,  too  much  to  his  own  unworthiness 
and   too  little  to  the  worthiness  of  Christ. 


His  sadness  checkered  his  sunshine ;  his 
tears  obscured  his  clearer  vision  ;  the  clouds 
hung  too  low  upon  the  mountains  of  his  joy. 
Ere  he  had  realized  his  hope  and  confidence 
a  shadow  would  intervene  and  rob  him  of 
his  peace — 

"  And  in  that  shadow  I  have  passed  along, 
Feeling  myself  grow  weak  as  it  grew  strong, 
Walking  in  doubt,  and  searching  for  the  way. 
And  often  at  a  stand— as  now,  to-day." 

Yet,  notwithstanding,  his  faith  in  Chrisi 


The  Pilgrims  discourse  upo?i  the  Nai-rative,  367 

Great.  You  say  right ;  those  were  the  things  that  were  his 
troubles  ;  and  they,  as  you  have  well  observed,  arose  from  the  weak- 
ness ol  his  mind  thereabout,  not  from  weakness  of  spirit  as  to  the 
practical  part  of  a  pilgrim's  life.  I  dare  believe  that  as  the  proverb  is, 
he  could  have  lit  a  firebrand  had  it  stood  in  his  way ;  but  those 
thin^;-  with  which  he  was  oppressed  no  man  ever  yet  could  shake  ofi 
witli  ease. 

Then  said  Christiana,  This  relation  of  Mr.  Fearing  has  done  me 
good  ;  I  thought  nobody  had  been  like  me  ;  but  I  see  there  was  some 
semblance  betwixt  this  good  man  and  me.  Only  we  differ  in  two 
things  ;  his  troubles  v/ere  so  great  that  they  brake  out ;  but  mine  I 
kept  within.  His  also  lay  so  hard  upon  him,  they  made  him  that  he 
could  not  knock  at  the  houses  provided  for  entertainment ;  but  my 
troubles  were  always  such  as  made  me  knock  the  louder. 

Mer.  If  I  might  also  speak  my  heart,  I  must  say  that  something 
of  him  has  also  dwelt  in  me ;  for  I  have  ever  been  more  afraid  of  the 
lake,  and  the  loss  of  a  place  in  paradise,  than  I  have  been  of  the  loss 
of  other  things.  Oh,  thought  I,  may  I  have  the  happiness  to  have  a 
habitation  there  !  it  is  enough,  though  I  part  with  all  the  world  to 
win  it. 

Then  said  Matthew,  Fear  was  one  thing  that  made  me  think  that 
I  was  far  from  having  that  within  me  which  accompanies  salvation  ; 
but,  if  it  was  so  with  such  a  good  man  as  he,  why  may  it  not  also  go 
well  with  me  ? 

No  fears,  no  grace,  said  James.  Though  there  Is  not  always 
grace  where  there  is  the  fear  of  hell,  yet,  to  be  sure,  there  is  no 
grace  where  there  Is  no  fear  of  God. 

Great.  Well  said,  James;  thou  hast  hit  the  mark;  for,  "the 
fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom ;"  and,  to  be  sure,  they  that 
want  the  beo^innintr  have  neither  middle  nor  end.     But  we  will  here 

was  true.     Like  the  needle  that  ever  points,   1   tian  joy,  or  hope,  or  happiness  ;    and   the 
yet  always  tremblingly,  to  the  pole,  so  did   '    children  of  the  King  would  go  mourning  all 


this  poor  man,  with  fear  and  trembling,  ever 

tend  and  always  look  to  Jesus  his  Saviour. 

Thcimperfrction  of  Mr.  Fearins;;. — Diverse 

are   the  characteristics   of  pilgrims ;    some 


their    days,    shrinking  from  both    privilege 
and  duty,  as    though  they  were    but  half- 
trustful  of  Divine  providence  and  grace. 
Mr.  Self-iuilL — .As  a  contrast  to  the  hum- 


sorrowful,  some  rejoicing  ;    some   despond-      ble  spirit  of  Mr.  Fearing,  the  presumption 


ing,  others  glad  of  heart.  It  may  be  that 
Wisdom  is  justified  of  all  these  her  children  ; 
but   it    would   not  be  to  the   profit  of  the 


of  Mr.  Self-will  is  now  set  forth.  This 
was  a  self-righteous  man,  who  sought  to 
balance  his  virtues  against  his  vices,  to  be  a 


Church  if  all  men  were  like  this  Mr.  Fear-      servant  to  sin  and  righteousness  at  the  same 
IHG.    If  it  were  so,  there  would  be  no  Chris-   [  time,  and  to  build  his  house  partly  on  the 


3U8 


The  Pilgrim's  Prog?' ess. 


conclude  our  discourse  of  Mr.  Fearing,  after  we  have  sent  after  him 
this  farewell : 

Well,  Master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 

Thy  God,  and  wast  afraid 
Of  doing  anything,  while  here, 

That  would  have  thee  betrayed. 

And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit  ? 

Would  others  did  so  too  ! 
For  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit, 

They  do  themselves  undo. 

Now  I  saw  that  they  still  went  on  in  their  talk  ;  for  after  Mr. 
Great-heart  had  made  an  end  of  Mr.  Fearing,  Mr.  Honest  began  to 
tell  of  another,  but  his  name  was  Mr.  Self-will.  He  pretended  him- 
self to  be  a  pilgrim,  said  Mr.  Honest;  but  I  persuade  myself  he  never 
came  in  at  the  gate  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the  way. 

Great.    Had  you  ever  any  talk  with  him  about  it? 

Hon.  Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice  ;  but  he  would  always  be 
like  himself,  self-ivilled.  He  neither  cared  for  man,  nor  argument, 
nor  yet  example  ;  what  his  mind  prompted  him  to,  that  he  would  do ; 
and  nothing  else  could  he  be  got  to  do. 

Great.  What  principles  did  he  hold?  for  I  suppose  you  can  tell, 

Hon.  He  held  that  a  man  migrht  follow  the  vices  as  well  as  the 
virtues  of  pilgrims,  and  that  if  he  did  both  he  should  be  certainly 
saved. 

Great.  How?  If  he  had  said,  it  is  possible  for  the  best  to  be  guilty 
of  the  vices  as  well  as  to  partake  of  the  virtues  of  the  pilgrims,  he  could 
not  much  have  been  blamed  ;  for  indeed  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice 
absolutely,  but  on  condition  that  we  watch  and  strive.  But  this,  I 
perceive,  is  not  the  thing  ;  but,  if  I  understand  you  right,  your  mean- 
ing is,  that  he  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  allowable  so  to  be. 

Hon.    Aye,  aye,  so  I  mean  ;  and  so  he  believed  and  practised. 

Great.    But  what  grounds  had  he  for  so  saying  ? 

Hon.    Why,  he  said  he  had  the  Scripture  for  his  warrant. 

Great.   Pr'ythee,  Mr.  Honest,  present  us  with  a  few  particulars. 


rock  and  partly  on  the  sand.  He  quotes 
other  men's  sins  as  the  warrant  of  his  own 
offences ;  and  where  others  have  been  over- 
taken in  a  fault,  he  cultivates  their  sin  into 
a  system,  and  deliberately  walks  in  the  way 
of  transgression.  Surely,  the  conscience  of 
this  self-willed  professor  must  be  seared,  and 


insensible  to  the  hardest  contact.  No  man's 
sins  can  by  any  means  be  allowed  to  give 
sanction  to  sin,  or  be  used  as  a  justification 
of  wrong-doing  by  others. 

Time  enough  to  repent. — Procrastination 
is  said  to  be  "the  thief  of  time,"  and  so,  in 
a  spiritual  sense,  it  may  be  said  to  be  "the 


MR.   FEARING  AT  THB  GATE. 


FEEBLE-MIND   WELCOMES  READY-TO-HALT. 


Jtionest  and  Great-heart. 


369 


HONEST  CONVERSES  ABOUT  ONE  SELF-WILL. 

Hon.  So  I  will.  He  said,  to  have  to  do  with  other  men's  wives 
had  been  practised  by  David,  God's  beloved,  and  therefore  he  could 
do  it.  He  said,  to  have  more  women  than  one  was  a  thing  that  Solo- 
mon practised,  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said  that  Sarah 
and  the  godly  midwives  of  Egypt  lied,  and  so  did  saved  Rahab,  and 
therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said  that  the  disciples  went,  at  the  bid- 
ding of  their  Master,  and  took  away  the  owner's  ass,  and  therefore 
he  could  do  so  too.  He  said  that  Jacob  got  the  inheritance  of  his 
father  in  a  way  of  guile  and  dissimulation,  and  therefore  he  could 
do  so  too. 

Great.  High  bass,  indeed  !  And  are  you  sure  he  was  of  this 
opinion? 

Hon.  I  have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  b»"'ng  Scripture  for  it,  bring 
arguments  for  it,  etc. 

Great.  An  opinion  that  is  not  fit  to  be  with  any  allowance  in  the 
world ! 

24 


370 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


Hon.  You  must  understand  me  rightly.  He  did  not  say  that  anj 
man  might  do  this ;  but  that  those  who  had  the  virtues  of  those  that 
did  such  things  might  also  do  the  same. 

Great.  But  what  more  false  than  such  a  conclusion  ?  for  tliis  is 
as  much  as  to  say,  that,  because  good  men  heretofore  have  sinned  of 
infirmity,  therefore  he  had  allowance  to  do  it  of  a  presumptuous  mind  ; 
or  that  if,  because  a  child,  by  the  blast  of  a  wind,  or  for  that  it  stum- 
bled at  a  stone,  fell  down  and  defiled  itself  in  the  mire,  therefore  he 
might  wilfully  lie  down  and  wallow  like  a  bull  therein  !  Who  could 
have  thought  that  any  one  could  so  far  have  been  blinded  by  the 
power  of  lust?  But  what  is  written  must  be  true :  "They  stumble  at 
the  word,  being  disobedient;  whereunto  also  they  were  appointed"  (i 
Peter  2:8).  Again,  his  supposing  that  such  may  have  the  godly 
man's  virtues  who  addict  themselves  to  his  vices,  is  also  a  delusion 
as  strong  as  the  other.  "To  eat  up  the  sin  of  God's  people"  (Hos. 
4 :  8),  as  a  dog  licks  up  filth,  is  no  sign  of  one  that  is  possessed  with 
their  virtues.  Nor  can  I  believe  that  one  who  is  of  this  opinion  can  at 
present  have  faith  or  love  in  him.  But  I  know  you  have  made  some 
strong  objections  against  him  ;  pr'ythee  what  can  he  say  for  himself? 

Hon.  Why,  he  says,  to  do  this  by  way  of  opinion  seems  abun- 
dantly more  honest  than  to  do  it  and  yet  hold  contrary  to  it  in 
opinion. 

Great.  A  very  wicked  answer ;  for  though  to  let  loose  the  bridle 
to  lust,  while  our  opinions  are  against  such  things,  is  bad,  yet  to  sin, 
and  plead  a  toleration  to  do  so,  is  worse  ;  the  one  stumbles  beholders 
accidentally,  the  other  leads  them  unto  the  snare. 

Hon.  There  are  many  of  this  man's  mind  that  have  not  this 
man's  mouth ;  and  that  makes  going  on  pilgrimage  of  so  little  esteem 
as  it  is. 

Great.  You  have  said  the  truth,  and  it  is  to  be  lamented  ;  but 
he  that  feareth  the  Kincr  of  Paradise  shall  come  out  of  them  all. 

CiiR.  There  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world ;  I  know  one  that 
said  it  was  time  enough  to  repent  when  he  came  to  die. 

Great.  Such  are  not  over-wise  ;  that  man  would  have  been  loath, 
might  he  have  had  a  week  to  run  twenty  miles  for  his  life,  to  have 
deferred  that  journey  to  the  last  hour  of  that  week. 


thief  of  souls."  If  we  are  to  be  "  rooted  and 
grounded  "  in  love,  ere  we  are  fit  for  heaven, 
we  do  well  to  plant  the  seed  early,  and  allow 
time  for  the  <rrowth  of  both  root  and  branches. 


Suffice  it  to  say,  there  is  no  time  to  lose,  no 
time  to  trifle  with.  If  eternity  is  the  unend- 
ing period  of  bhss,  surely  this  brief  span  of 
time  cannot  be  too  long  for  all  the  work  we 


Honest' s  Observations. 


371 


Hon.  You  say  right ;  and  yet  the  generahtyof  them  that  count 
themselves  pilgrims  do  indeed  do  thus.  I  am,  as  you  see,  an  old  man, 
and  have  been  a  traveller  in  this  road  many  a  day  ;  and  I  have  taken 
notice  of  many  things.  I  have  seen  some  that  set  out  as  if  they 
would  drive  all  the  world  before  them,  who  yet  have,  in  a  few  days, 
died  as  they  in  the  wilderness,  and  so  never  got  sight  of  the  prom- 
ised land.  I  have  seen  some  that  have  promised  nothing  at  first  set- 
ting out  to  be  pilgrims,  and  that  one  would  have  thought  could  not 
have  lived  a  day,  that  have  yet  proved  very  good  pilgrims.  I  have  seen 
some  who  have  run  hastily  fo ward,  that  have,  after  a  little  time,  run  just 
as  fast  back  again.  I  have  seen  some  who  have  spoken  very  well  of  a 
pilgrim's  life  at  first,  that  after  awhile  have  spoken  as  much  against  it. 
I  have  heard  some,  when  they  first  set  out  for  Paradise,  say  positively. 
There  is  such  a  place  ;  who,  when  they  have  been  almost  there,  have 
come  back  again,  and  said,  There  is  none.  I  have  heard  some  vaunt 
what  they  would  do  in  case  they  should  be  opposed,  that  have,  even 
at  a  false  alarm,  fled  faith,  the  pilgrim's  way,  and  all. 

Now  as  they  were  thus  on  their  way,  there  came  one  running 
to  meet  them,  and  said,  Gentlemen,  and  you  of  the  weaker  sort,  if 
you  love  life,  shift  for  yourselves,  for  the  robbers  are  before  you ! 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  They  be  the  three  that  set  upon 
Little-faith  heretofore.  Well,  said  he,  v.e  are  ready  for  them.  So 
they  went  on  their  way.  Now  they  looked  at  every  turning,  when 
they  should  have  met  with  the  villains  ;  but,  whether  they  heard  of 
Mr.  Great-heart,  or  whether  they  had  some  other  game,  they  came 
not  up  to  the  pilgrims. 

have  to  do,  for  all  the  talents  we  have  to      formity  to  the  image  of  Christ,  without  which 
use,  for  the  attainment  of  the  heavenly  char-      no  man  shall  see  the  Lord, 
acter,  and  for  that  growth  in  grace,  and  con- 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Guests  of  Gaius. 


How  qnickly  strife  and  envy  end, 

How  soon  all  idle  griefs  depart, 
When  friend  takes  counsel  thus  with  friend, 

When  soul  meets  soul,  and  heart  meets  heart ; 


"  We  have  so  many  things  to  say. 
So  many  failings  to  confess. 
Time  flies,  alas !  so  soon  away, 
We  cannot  half  we  would  express.' 


Here,  again,  the  little  group  enlarges,  by  the  addition  to  their  number  of  Mr. 
/eeble  MIND  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt;  and  these  twain  Pilgrims,  like  Mr.  Honest,  con- 
tinue with  the  company  to  the  end  of  the  journey.  The  introduction  of  Mr.  Feeble-mind 
to  the  group  furnishes  an  illustration  of  the  importance  of  joining,  hand-in-hand,  in  faith- 
ful effort  to  rescue  men  u/  failing  strength  (as  they  may  be  rescued)  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
Destroyer. 

IHRISTIANA  then  wished  for  an  inn  to  refresh  herself 
and  her  children,  because  they  were  weary.  Then  said 
Mr.  Honest,  There  is  one  a  little  before  us,  where  a  very 
honorable  disciple,  one  Gaius,  dwells  (Rom.  i6:  23). 
So  they  all  concluded  to  turn  in  thither;  and  the  rather, 
because  the  old  gentleman  gave  him  so  good  a  report.  When  they 
came  to  the  door,  they  went  in,  not  knocking  ;  for  folks  use  not  to 
knock  at  the  door  of  an  inn.  Then  they  called  for  the  master  of 
the  house,  and  he  came  to  them.  So  they  asked  if  they  might  lie 
there  that  night  ? 

Gal  Yes,  gentlemen,  if  you  be  true  men,  for  my  house  is  for 
none  but  pilgrims.  Then  were  Christiana,  Mercy  and  the  boys  the 
more  glad,  for  that  the  inn-keeper  was  a  lover  of  pilgrims.  So  they 
called  for  rooms,  and  he  showed  them  one  for  Christiana  and  her 
children,  and  Mercy,  and  another  for  Mr.  Great-heart  and  the  old 
gentleman. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  Good  Gaius,  what  hast  thou  for 
supper?  for  these  pilgrims  have  come  far  to-day,  and  are  weary. 


Wished  for  an  inn. — There  is  an  evident 
difference  indicated  here  between  the  provi- 
sion of  special  means  of  grace  and  the  more 
ordinary  occasions  of  Christian  instruction 
and  fellowship.  The  former  has  been  already 
set  forth  in  the  representation  of  the  Palace 


Beautiful ;  and  now  one  of  the  stated  and 
appointed  opportunities  of  the  communion 
of  saints  is  more  particularly  alluded  to, 
where  we  meet,  not  so  directly  with  the 
graces  of  the  Spirit  in  themselves,  as  with 
our  fellow-Christians,  who  exemplify  those 


(372) 


The  Pilgrims  entertained  by   Gains,  873 

It  is  late,  said  Gaius,  so  we  cannot  conveniently  go  out  to  seek 
food  ;  but  such  as  we  have  you  shall  be  welcome  to,  if  that  will  con- 
tent you. 

Great.  We  will  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  in  the  house; 
forasmuch  as  I  have  proved  thee,  thou  art  never  destitute  of  that 
which  is  convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  spake  to  the  cook,  whose  name  was 
Taste-that-which-is-good,  to  get  ready  supper  for  so  many  pilgrims. 
This  done,  he  comes  up  again,  saying.  Come,  my  good  friends,  you 
are  welcome  to  me,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  have  a  house  to  entertain 
you  in ;  and  while  supper  is  making  ready,  if  you  please,  let  us 
entertain  one  another  with  some  good  discourse.  So  they  all  said. 
Content. 

Then  said  Gaius,  Whose  wife  is  this  aged  matron  ?  and  whose 
daughter  is  this  young  damsel  ? 

Great.  The  woman  is  the  wife  of  one  Christian,  a  pilgrim  of 
former  times,  and  these  are  his  four  children.  The  maid  is  one  of 
her  acquaintance  ;  one  that  she  has  persuaded  to  come  with  her  on 
pilgrimage.  The  boys  take  all  after  their  father,  and  covet  to  tread 
in  his  steps  ;  yea,  if  they  do  but  see  any  place  where  the  old  pilgrim 
has  lain,  or  any  print  of  his  foot,  it  ministereth  joy  to  their  hearts, 
and  they  covet  to  lie  or  tread  in  the  same. 

Then  said  Gaius,  Is  this  Christian's  wife,  and  are  these  Christian's 
children  ?  I  knew  your  husband's  father,  yea,  also  his  father's  father. 
Many  have  been  good  of  this  stock  ;  their  ancestors  first  dwelt  at 
Antioch  (Acts  ii:  26).  Christian's  progenitors  (I  suppose  you  have 
heard  your  husband  talk  of  them)  were  very  worthy  men.  They  have, 
above  any  that  I  know,  showed  themselves  men  of  great  virtue  and 
courage  for  the  Lord  of  the  pilgrims,  his  ways,  and  them  that  loved 
him.  I  have  heard  of  many  of  your  husband's  relations,  that  have 
stood  all  trials  for  the  sake  of  the  truth.     Stephen,  that  was  one  of 


graces  in  their  own  experience.  This  is  one 
of  the  constituted  rights  and  privileges  of  the 
Christian  man  during  the  course  of  his  pil- 
grimage— to  give  and  to  receive  the  blessings 
of  brotherly  or  ministerial  intercourse  and 
fellowship. 

T/iey  went  in,  not  knocking. — A  sense  of 
freedom  and  a  consciousness  of  right  seem 
to  be  associated  with  this  introduction  of  the 
Pilgrims  to  the  House  of  Gaius— a  house 
which  (it  is  to  be  observed)  is  represented  as 


an  "  inn,"  not  as  a  private  residence ;  a  place 
into  which  they  could  enter  by  right,  and  not 
by  special  favor  only,  and  for  pay  or  reward, 
as  will  appear  at  the  close  of  this  visit.  The 
only  qualification  needed  for  admission  is 
that  they  be  "true  Pilgrims."  It  is  possible 
the  double  meaning  is  a  correct  one — a 
Christian  household,  at  times  enlarged  into 
a  congregation,  by  the  admission  of  those 
who  are  true  and  sincere  followers  of  the 
same  Saviour.     ?--\^  ^"^'js*holds  were  famil- 


c 
-J 

w 


u 

CO 

p 

< 
a 


374 


Gams  enumerates  some  Holy  Pilgrims. 


375 


the  first  of  the  family  from  whence  your  husband  sprang,  was  knocked 
on  the  head  with  stones  (Acts  7:  59,  60).  James,  another  of  this 
generation,  was  slain  with  the  edge  of  the  sword  (Acts  12:  2).  To 
say  nothing  of  Paul  and  Peter,  men  anciendy  of  the  family  from 
A^hence  your  husband  came,  there  was  Ignatius,  who  was  cast  to  the 
Hons  ;  Romanus,  whose  flesh  was  cut  by  pieces  from  his  bones  ;  and 
Polycarp,  who  played  the  man  in  the  fire.  There  was  he  that  was 
hanged  up  in  a  basket  in  the  sun,  for  the  wasps  to  eat;  and  he  whom 
they  put  into  a  sack,  and  cast  into  the  sea  to  be  drowned.  It  would 
be  impossible  ucterly  to  count  up  all  of  that  family  who  have  suffered 
injuries  and  death  for  the  love  of  a  pilgrim's  life.  Nor  can  I  but  be 
glad  to  see  that  thy  husband  has  left  behind  him  four  such  boys  as 
these.  I  hope  they  will  bear  up  their  father's  name,  and  tread  in  their 
father's  steps,  and  come  to  their  father's  end. 

Great.  Indeed,  sir,  they  are  likely  lads  ;  they  seem  to  choose 
heartily  their  father's  ways. 

Gai.  That  is  what  I  said  ;  wherefore  Christiana's  family  is  like 
jtill  to  spread  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  ground,  and  yet  to  be  nu- 
merous upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  Wherefore  let  Christiana  look 
out  some  damsels  for  her  sons,  to  whom  they  may  be  betrothed,  that 
the  name  of  their  father  and  the  house  of  his  progenitors  may  never 
be  forgotten  in  the  world. 

Hon.    It  is  a  pity  this  family  should  fall  and  be  extinct. 

Gai.  Fall  it  cannot,  but  be  diminished  it  may  ;  but  let  Christiana 
take  my  advice,  and  that's  the  way  to  uphold  it. 


iar  to  Christians  in  Bunyan's  day,  as  they 
certainly  were  also  in  the  apostolic  age,  when 
"  the  Church  in  thy  house  "  was  included  in 
the  apostolic  salutations  (see  Rom.  16:  5; 
I  Cor.  16:  19;  Philem.  2).  In  the  one 
aspect,  admission  to  the  house  would  be  a 
matter  of  personal  favor,  and,  in  the  other, 
a  matter  of  Christian  duty.  Both  phases 
are  here  combined  ;  for  we  cannot  afford  to 
lose  either  on  the  one  hand  the  idea  of  this 
good  man's  hospitaUty,  or,  on  the  other,  the 
freedom  and  right  of  entrance  assumed  by 
the  Pilgrim  party. 

And,  consistently  with  this  idea,  we  find 
in  the  person  of  Gaius  both  a  minister  and 
a  friend.  He  instructs  them  ;  he  feeds  them, 
after  a  spiritual  sort,  with  food  suited  to  the 
age  and  experience  of  each.  He  feeds  the 
lounger  children  with  "milk,"   the  elders 


with  "  butter  and  honey."  He  gives  them 
the  "apples"  of  the  Lord's  love,  and  then 
"nuts,"  the  more  hidden  and  difficult  doc- 
trines of  the  faith,  that  must  be  broken  up 
in  order  to  find  the  kernel.  All  this  is  em- 
blematic teaching.  Gaius  also  interests 
himself,  as  minister  and  friend,  in  family 
arrangements,  by  his  counsel  and  advice. 
And  again,  more  after  the  duty  of  a  congre- 
gation than  of  an  individual  household,  the 
Pilgrims  go  forth  to  destroy  the  Giant  S lay- 
good  ;  and  thereby  their  little  group  enlarges 
in  number,  and  is  made  to  include  the  weak 
as  well  as  the  strong,  so  that  they  that  are 
strong  may,  by  Christian  communion  and 
sympathy,  "  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak." 
The  readiness  of  Gaius  to  supply  the 
(spiritual)  wants  of  this  company  is  worthy 
of  observation.     Without  notice  of  any  sort. 


■♦» 


376 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


And,  Christiana,  said  this  inn-keeper,  I  am  glad  to  see  thee  and 
thy  friend  Mercy  here  together,  a  lovely  couple.  And  may  I  advise. 
Take  Mercy  into  a  nearer  relation  with  thee  ;  if  she  will,  let  her  be 
given  to  Matthew,  thy  eldest  son  ;  it  is  a  way  to  preserve  a  posterity 
in  the  earth.  So  this  match  was  concluded,  and  in  process  of  time 
they  were  married ;   but  more  of  this  hereafter. 

Gaius  also  proceeded,  and  said,  I  will  now  speak  on  oehalf  of  the 
women,  to  take  away  their  reproach.  For  as  death  and  the  curse 
came  into  the  world  by  a  woman,  so  also  do  life  and  health :  "  God 
sent  forth  his  Son  made  of  a  woman"  (Gen.  3  ;  Gal.  4:4).  Yea,  to 
show  how  much  those  that  came  after  did  abhor  the  act  of  the  mother, 
this  sex  in  the  Old  Testament  coveted  children,  if  happily  this  or  that 
woman  might  be  the  mother  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  I  will  say 
again,  that  when  the  Saviour  was  come,  women  rejoiced  in  him  before 
either  man  or  angel  (Luke  2).  I  read  not  that  man  did  give  unto 
Christ  as  much  as  one  groat ;  but  the  women  "followed  him  and  min- 
istered to  him  of  their  substance."  It  was  a  woman  that  washed  his 
feet  with  tears,  and  a  woman  that  anointed  his  body  to  the  burial. 
They  were  women  who  wept  when  he  was  going  to  the  cross,  and 
women  that  followed  him  from  the  cross,  and  that  sat  over  against 
his  sepulchre  when  he  was  buried.  They  were  women  that  were 
first  with  him  at  his  resurrection  morn,  and  women  that  brought 
tidings  first  to  his  disciples  that  he  was  risen  from  the  dead.  Women, 
therefore,  are  highly  favored,  and  show  by  these  things  that  they  are 
sharers  with  us  in  the  grace  of  life  (Matt.  27  :  55-61  ;  Luke  7  :  37-50 ; 
8  :  2,  3  ;   23:27;  24  :  22,  23  ;  John  2:3:11:2). 

Now  the  cook  sent  up  to  signify  that  supper  was  almost  ready, 
and  sent  one  to  lay  the  cloth  and  the  trenchers,  and  to  set  the  salt 
and  bread  in  order. 


even  without  knocking  at  the  door,  the  Pil- 
grims had  presented  themselves  for  food  and 
refreshment;  and,  lo !  it  is  ready.  How 
important  is  this  mark  of  true  ministerial 
worth — this  readiness  to  speak  a  word  in 
season  to  them  that  are  weary,  and  out  of 
the  overflow  of  the  heart's  abundance  to 
bring  forth  things  new  and  old,  sufficient  for 
the  wants  of  those  that  need  ! 

On  the  behalf  of  women. — Christianity  has 
ennobled  and  exalted  woman.  Heathendom 
has  degraded  her ;  and  even  Judaism  re- 
stricted her  rights.     Wherever  the  effects  of 


the  Fall  are  unrepaired  and  unrestored, 
woman  still  feels  the  full  share  of  her  own 
condemnation  for  the  fatal  part  she  played 
in  the  dread  tragedy  of  Eden.  But  if  wo- 
man was  "  the  first  in  the  transgression,"  she 
was  also  made  the  vehicle  of  the  fulfilment 
of  the  promise  of  the  coming  Saviour,  who 
was  to  be  "  the  seed  of  the  woman  "  And, 
accordingly,  ever  since  the  Second  Adam 
"  born  of  a  woman,"  restored  that  which  our 
first  mother  forfeited,  the  original  dignity 
and  glory  of  woman  have  been  rendered  back 
again;  and  throughout  all  Christendom,  and 


The  Supper  of  the  Pilgrims. 


377 


Then  said  Matthew,  The  sight  of  this  cloth,  and  of  this  forerun- 
ner of  the  supper,  begetteth  in  me  a  greater  appetite  to  my  food  than 
I  had  before. 

Gal  So  let  all  ministering  doctrines  to  thee,  in  this  life,  beget 
in  thee  a  greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper  of  the  great  King  in  his 
kingdom ;  for  all  preaching,  books,  and  ordinances  here,  are  but  as 
the  laying  of  the  trenchers,  and  as  setting  of  salt  upon  the  board, 
when  compared  with  the  feast  that  our  Lord  will  make  us  when  we 
come  to  his  house. 

So  supper  came  up  ;  and  first  a  heave-shoulder  and  a  wave-breast 
were  set  on  the  table  before  them,  to  show  that  they  must  begin 
the  meal  with  prayer  and  praise  to  God  (Lev.  7  :  32-34;  10:  14,  15  ; 
Ps.  25  :  I  ;  Heb.  13  :  15).  The  heave-shoulder  David  lifted  his  heart 
up  to  God  with  ;  and  with  the  wave-breast,  where  his  heart  lay,  with 
that  he  used  to  lean  upon  his  harp  when  he  played.  These  two 
dishes  were  very  fresh  and  good,  and  they  all  ate  heartily  thereof. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a  bottle  of  wine,  as  red  as  blood. 
So  Gains  said  to  them.  Drink  freely;  this  is  the  true  juice  of  the 
vine,  "that  makes  glad  the  heart  of  God  and  man"  (Deut.  32  :  14; 
Judg.  9:  13;  John  15  :5).  So  they  drank,  and  were  merry.  The 
next  was  a  dish  of  milk,  well  crumbled  ;  but  Gains  said.  Let  the  boys 
havethat,"  that  they  may  grow  thereby"  (i  Peter  2  :  i,  2).  Then  they 
brought  up  in  course,  a  dish  of  butter  and  honey.  Then  said  Gains, 
Eat  freely  of  this,  for  this  is  good  to  cheer  up  and  strengthen  your 
judgments  and  understandings.     This  was  our  Lord's  dish  when  he 


during  all  the  ages  of  the  Christian  faith, 
woman  has  had  honor  laid  upon  her,  after 
the  example  of  the  holy  women  who  adorned 
the  doctrine  of  Christ  their  Saviour,  and 
Ihereby  helped  to  establish  woman's  claim 
to  that  reverence,  honor,  love,  and  admir- 
ation, which  they  universally  receive  in  all 
Christian  lands. 

Yes,  the  women  that  have  followed  Christ 
have  imparted  a  grace  and  a  glory  to  the 
Gospel  narrative  which  had  been  utterly 
wanting  were  men  the  only  actors  in  the 
scenes  of  the  Saviour's  life  and  ministry. 
How  they  wept  their  tears  of  penitence,  and 
washed  his  feet  in  the  lowliness  of  their 
humility,  and  wiped  them  with  the  flowing 
tresses  of  their  hair!  How  diligently  Mar- 
tha served  him  ;  how  earnestly  Mary  heard 
him  ;  how  devotedly  the  Magdalene  loved 


him  !  When  strong  men,  who  had  strength 
to  fight,  forsook  him  and  fled,  the  weak 
women  of  Galilee,  with  nothing  but  theii 
heart-love  to  sustain  them,  followed  the 
Master  through  all,  even  to  the  last.  They 
saw  him  die ;  they  followed  him  to  his  burial ; 
they  prepared  sweet  spices  to  embalm  the 
body  of  their  Lord;  and  they  that  hngered 
the  longest  to  see  the  dark  sunset  upon  Cal- 
vary were  the  first  privileged  to  see  the 
glorious  sunrise  of  the  Easter  morning ;  for 
it  was  to  the  several  groups  of  women,  who 
were  earlv  at  the  sepulchre,  that  Jesus  did 
first  manifest  himself  after  his  Resurrection. 
So  supper  came  up. — The  thoughts  and 
reflections  of  the  company  are  suggested  by 
the  circumstances  of  the  occasion.  Thb 
preparation  for  the  feast  is  not  the  festival. 
The  cloth  and  the  trenchers  and  the  trap- 


378 


The  Pilgrinis  Progress. 


THE  PILGRIMS'  SUPPER. 

was  a  child ;  "  Butter  and  honey  shall  he  eat,  that  he  may  know  to 
refuse  the  evil  and  choose  the  good"  (Isa.  7 :  15). 

Then  they  brought  them  up  a  dish  of  apples,  and  they  were 
very  good  tasted  fruit.  Then  said  Matthew,  May  we  eat  apples, 
since  it  was  they  by  and  with  which  the  serpent  beguiled  our  first 
mother? 

^"^^en  said  Gains : 

Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguiled, 
Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defiled  ; 
Apples  forbid,  if  eat,  corrupt  the  blood. 
To  eat  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good ; 
Drink  of  his  flagons,  then  thou  church,  his  dove, 
And  eat  his  apples,  who  art  sick  of  love. 

Then  said  Matthew,  I  made  the  scruple  because  I  a  while  since 
was  sick  with  the  eating  of  fruit. 

Gai.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick,  but  not  what  our  Lord 
has  tolerated. 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  they  were  presented  with  an- 


Holy   Conversation, 


379 


other  dish,  and  It  was  a  dish  of  nuts  (Song  of  Sol.  6:  1 1).  Then 
said  some  at  the  table,  Nuts  spoil  tender  teeth,  especially  the  teeth 
of  children.     Which  when  Gaius  heard,  he  said  : 

Hard  texts  are  nuts  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters) 
Whose  shells  do  keep  their  kernels  from  the  eaters : 
Open  then  the  shells,  and  you  shall  have  the  meat ; 
They  here  are  brought  for  you  to  crack  and  eat. 

Then  were  they  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  a  long  time, 
talking  of  many  things.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman.  My  good 
landlord,  while  we  are  cracking  your  nuts,  if  you  please,  do  you 
open  this  riddle  : 

A  man  there  was  (though  some  did  count  him  mad), 
The  more  he  cast  away  the  more  he  had. 

Then  they  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what  good  Gaius 
would  say.     So  he  sat  still  a  while,  and  then  thus  replied : 

He  who  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor, 
Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more. 

Then  said  Joseph,  I  dare  say,  sir,  I  did  not  think  you  could 
have  found  it  out. 

Oh,  said  Gaius,  I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way  a  great 
while  ;  nothing  teaches  like  experience.  I  have  learned  of  my  Lord 
to  be  kind;  and  I  have  found  by  experience  that  I  have  gained 
thereby.  "  There  is  that  scattereth  and  yet  increaseth  ;  and  there 
is  that  withholdeth  more  than  is  meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  poverty." 
"There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet  hath  nothing;  there  is  that 
maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath  great  riches  "  (Prov.  1 1 :   24  ;   13  :  7). 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Christiana,  his  mother,  and  said. 
Mother,  this  is  a  very  good  man's  house  ;  let  us  stay  here  a  good 
while,  and  let  my  brother  Matthew  be  married  here  to  Mercy  be- 
fore we  go  any  farther. 


pings  are  not  the  food  that  satisfies  the 
hungry  soul.  There  may  be  the  fire  and 
the  wood ;  but,  "where  is  the  lamb  ? " — that 
is  the  question,  which  only  our  "Jehovah- 
Jireh"  can  sufficiently  answer!  Amid  all 
our  preparations  and  preliminaries,  let  us  not 
forget  that  Jesus  is  "  the  bread  of  heaven," 
and  from  his  Spirit  alone  can  proceed  "the 
water  of  life"  to  the  strengthening  and  re- 


freshing of  our  souls.  And  after  we  have 
been  fed,  as  pilgrims,  with  heavenly  food,  we 
shall  enjoy  a  richer  banquet  and  a  nobler 
feast,  when,  our  pilgrimage  ended  and  our 
journey  done,  we  shall  eat  of  the  corn  of  the 
better  country,  and  of  the  milk  and  honey 
of  the  Promised  Land,  and  sit  down  with 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  our  Father's 
kingdom. 


S80 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


The  which  Gaius  the  host  overhearing,  said,  With  a  very  good 
will,  my  child.  So  they  stayed  here  more  than  a  month,  and  Mercy 
was  given  to  Matthew  to  wife. 

While  they  stayed  here,  Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  would  be 
making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor,  by  which  she 
brought  a  very  good  report  upon  pilgrims. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  story.  After  supper,  the  lads  desired 
a  bed,  for  they  were  weary  with  travelling.  Then  Gaius  called,  to 
show  them  to  their  chamber  ;  but  said  Mercy,  I  will  have  them  to 
bed.  So  she  had  them  to  bed,  and  they  slept  well  ;  but  the  rest  sat 
up  all  night ;  for  Gaius  and  they  were  such  suitable  company  that 
they  could  not  tell  how  to  part.  After  much  talk  of  their  Lord, 
themselves,  and  their  journey,  old  Mr.  Honest  (he  that  put  forth 
the  riddle  to  Gaius)  began  to  nod.  Then  said  Great-heart,  What, 
sir,  you  begin  to  be  drowsy !  Come,  rub  up,  here  is  a  riddle  for 
you.     Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  Let  us  hear  it. 

Then  replied  Mr.  Great-heart : 

He  that  will  kill  must  first  be  overcome  ; 
Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home. 

Ha !  said  Mr.  Honest,  it  is  a  hard  one ;  hard  to  expound,  and 
harder  to  practise.  But  come,  landlord,  said  he,  I  will,  if  you  please 
leave  my  part  to  you ;  do  you  expound  it,  and  I  will  hear  what  you 
say. 

No,  said  Gaius,  it  was  put  to  you,  and  it  is  expected  you  should 
answer  it. 

Then  said  the  old  gentleman  : 

He  first  by  grace  must  conquered  be, 

That  sin  would  mortify  ; 
Who  that  he  lives  would  convince  me. 

Unto  himself  must  die. 

It  is  right,  said  Gaius ;  good  doctrine  and  experience  teach  this. 
For,  until  grace  displays  itself,  and  overcomes  the  soul  with  its  glory, 


Mr.  Honest  began  to  nod. — The  weak  and 
feeble  members  of  the  flock  seem  to  be  al- 
lowed the  rest  and  refreshment  of  sleep  dur- 
ing the  period  of  Christian  intercourse ;  but 
they  are  under  protection  and  in  a  safe 
place  while  they  sleep  The  strong  men, 
however,  are  not  permitted  this  indulgence  ; 
and,  therefore,  when    Mr.    Honest  shows 


signs  of  drowsiness,  he  is  kept  awake  by 
the  conversation  of  Gaius.  It  is  here,  as  it 
was  with  Christian  and  Hopeful  on  the 
Enchanted  Ground — if  they  would  keep 
themselves  awake,  it  must  be  by  the  same 
"  saints'  fellowship,"  and  communing  on  the 
things  of  God.  Accordingly,  Gaius  contin- 
ues the  conversation. 


Holy   Conversation. 


381 


it  is  altogether  without  heart  to  oppose  sin.  Besides,  if  sin  Is 
Satan's  cords  by  which  the  soul  lies  bound,  how  should  it  make 
resistance  before  it  is  loosed  from  that  infirmity?  Nor  will  any  one 
that  knows  either  reason  or  grace,  believe  that  such  a  man  can  be  a 
living  monument  of  grace,  that  is  a  slave  to  his  own  corruptions. 
And  now  it  comes  into  my  mind,  I  will  tell  you  a  story  worth  the 
hearing.  There  were  two  men  that  went  on  pilgrimage  ;  the  one 
began  when  he  was  young,  the  other  when  he  was  old.  The  young 
man  had  strong  corruptions  to  grapple  with,  the  old  man's  were 
weak  with  the  decays  of  nature  ;  the  young  man  trod  his  steps  as 
even  as  did  the  old  one,  and  was  every  v/ay  as  light  as  he  ;  who  now, 
or  which  of  them,  had  their  graces  shining  clearest,  since  both 
seemed  to  be  alike  ? 

Hon.  The  youug  man's,  doubtless.  For  that  which  makes 
head  against  the  greatest  opposition  gives  best  demonstration  that 
it  is  strongest,  especially  when  it  also  holdeth  pace  with  that  which 
meets  not  with  half  so  much,  as  to  be  sure  old  age  does  not.  Be- 
sides, I  have  observed  that  old  men  have  blessed  themselves  with 
this  mistake  :  namely,  taking  the  decays  of  nature  for  a  gracious 
conquest  over  corruptions,  and  so  have  been  apt  to  beguile  them- 
selves. Indeed,  old  men,  that  are  gracious,  are  best  able  to  give 
advice  to  them  that  are  young,  because  they  have  seen  most  of  the 
emptiness  of  things ;  but  yet,  for  an  old  man  and  a  young  to  set  out 
both  together,  the  young  one  has  the  advantage  of  the  fairest  dis- 
covery of  a  work  of  grace  within  him,  though  the  old  man's  corrup- 
tions are  naturally  the  weakest. 

Thus  they  sat  talking  till  break  of  day.  Now,  when  the  family 
were  up,  Christiana  bid  her  son  James  to  read  a  chapter ;  so  he  read 
the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah.  When  he  had  done,  Mr.  Honest  asked, 
Why  it  was  said  that  the  Saviour  was  to  come  "out  of  a  dry  ground  ;" 
and  also  that  he  had  "  no  form  or  comeliness  in  him?" 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart:  To  the  first  I  answer,  because  the 
church  of  the  Jews,  of  which  Christ  came,  had  then  lost  almost  all 


A  story  worth  the  hearing. — This  is  a 
parable,  with  a  moral  attached.  The  trial 
of  our  faith  depends  very  much  upon  the 
circumstances  of  our  lot ;  and  the  faith  that 
is  most  approved  before  God  is  that  which 
resists  the  carnal  nature,  and  fights  the  good 
fight,  and  overcomes  at  the  last.  True  faith 
is  that  vital  influence  that  conquers  living 


temptations,  not  dead  ones ;  subduing  the 
legion  of  warring  desires,  and  destroying  the 
living  seeds  of  sin  in  the  heart 

If  we  can  do  any  good. — Here  is  the  fam- 
ily circle,  enlarged  to  a  congregation  of  be- 
lievers, addressing  itself  to  useful  labor  in 
its  own  locality — going  forth  in  the  strength 
of  its  *"'ith  to  see  if  it   can  do   any  good. 


382 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


sap  and  spirit  of  religion.  To  the  second,  I  say,  the  words  are 
spoken  in  the  person  of  unbeHevers,  who,  because  they  want  the 
eye  tliat  can  see  into  our  Prince's  heart,  therefore  they  judge  of  him 
by  the  meanness  of  his  outside.  Just  Hke  those  who,  not  knowing 
that  precious  stones  are  covered  over  with  a  homely  crust,  when 
they  have  found  one,  because  they  know  not  what  they  have  found, 
cast  it  away  again,  as  men  do  a  common  stone. 

Well,  said  Gains,  now  you  are  here,  and  since,  as  I  know,  Mr. 
Great  heart  is  good  at  his  weapons,  if  you  please,  after  we  have 
refreshed  ourselves,  we  will  walk  into  the  fields,  to  see  if  we  can  do 
any  good.  About  a  mile  from  hence  there  is  one  Slay-good,  a  giant, 
who  does  much  annoy  the  King's  highway  in  these  parts;  and  I 
know  whereabout  his  haunt  is;  he  is  master  of  a  number  of  thieves  ; 
it  would  be  well  if  we  could  clear  these  parts  of  him. 

So  they  consented,  and  went,  Mr.  Great-heart  with  his  sword, 
helmet,  and  shield,  and  the  rest  with  spears  and  staves. 

When  they  came  to  the  place  where  he  was,  they  found  him  with 
one  Feeble-mind  in  his  hand,  whom  his  servants  had  brought  unto 
him,  having  taken  him  in  the  way ;  now  the  giant  was  rifling  him,  with 
a  purpose,  after  that,  to  pick  his  bones ;  for  he  was  of  the  nature  of 
flesh-eaters. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  friends  at  the 
mouth  of  his  cave,  with  their  weapons,  he  demanded  what  the^ 
yvanted. 

Great.  We  want  thee,  for  we  are  come  to  revenge  the  quarrels 
of  the  many  pilgrims  whom  thou  hast  slain,  when  thou  hast  dragged 
them  out  of  the  King's  highway;  wherefore  come  out  of  thy  cave. 
So  he  armed  himself,  and  came  out;  and  to  battle  they  went,  and 
fought  for  above  an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to  take  wind. 

Then  said  the  giant,  Why  are  you  here  on  my  ground? 

Great.    To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I  told  thee  before. 


Christian  congregations  must  not  monopo- 
lize the  blessings  of  tlie  Ciospel,  but  spread 
them  abroad  to  others.  Like  stars,  we  are 
not  only  to  receive  light,  but  also  to  reflect 
light.  Sonietimcs  opportunities  are  put  in 
Dur  way  f  r  doing  good,  and  sometimes  for 
preventing  evil.  In  one  place  an  "open 
and  effectual  door"  may  beset  before  us; 
"nd  iii  another,  some  giant  impediment — 
jome  modem  Si,AY  good — may  have  to  be 
■enioved  ere  the  Gospel- words'  works  can 


enter.       There  are  ample  scope  and  work 
enough  for  all. 

Theieare  some  who  say  that  by  the  "giants" 
of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Bunyan  always 
means  to  indicate  the  persecuting  power 
of  the  period  in  which  his  lot  was  cast.  This 
may  be  so  ;  but  it  does  not  exclude  other  in- 
terpretations. For  example:  this  fierce  Giant 
though  slain  by  Great-heart,  lives  still  in 
his  posterity.  Many  a  Slay-good  still  holds 
in  bondage  many  a  Feeble-mind,  furnish- 


b 


884  The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  giant  made  Mr.  Great-heart  give 
back  ;  but  he  came  up  again,  and  in  the  greatness  of  his  mind  he  let 
fly  with  such  stoutness  at  the  giant's  head  and  sides,  that  he  made 
him  let  his  weapon  fall  out  of  his  hand;  so  he  smote  him  and  slew 
him,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and  brought  it  away  to  the  inn.  He  also 
took  Feeble-mind  the  pilgrim,  and  brought  him  with  him  to  his  lodg- 
ings When  they  were  come  home,  they  showed  his  head  to  the 
family,  and  set  it  up,  as  they  had  done  others  before,  for  a  terror  to 
those  that  should  attempt  to  do  as  he  hereafter. 

Then  they  asked  Mr.  Feeble-mind  how  he  fell  into  their  hands? 

Then  said  the  poor  man,  I  am  a  sickly  man,  as  you  see,  and  be- 
cause death  did  usually  once  a  day  knock  at  my  door,  I  thought  I 
should  never  be  well  at  home ;  so  I  betook  myself  to  a  pilgrim's 
life  ;  and  have  travelled  hither  from  the  town  of  Uncertain,  where  1 
and  my  father  were  born.  I  am  a  man  of  no  strength  at  all  of 
body,  nor  yet  of  mind,  but  would,  if  I  could,  though  I  can  but  crawl, 
spend  my  life  in  the  pilgrim's  way.  When  I  came  at  the  gate  that 
is  at  the  head  of  the  way,  the  Lord  of  that  place  did  entertain  me 
freely;  neither  objected  he  against  my  weakly  looks,  nor  against 
my  feeble  mind,  but  gave  me  such  things  as  were  necessary  for  my 
journey,  and  bid  me  "hope  to  the  end."  When  I  came  to  the 
house  of  the  Interpreter,  I  received  much  kindness  there ;  and  be- 
cause the  hill  of  Difficulty  was  judged  too  hard  for  me,  I  was  car- 
ried up  it  by  one  of  his  servants.  Indeed  I  have  found  much  relief 
from  pilgrims,  though  none  were  willing  to  go  softly,  as  I  am  forced 
to  do  ;  yet  still,  as  they  come  on,  they  bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and 
said  that  it  was  the  will  of  their  Lord  that  'comfort"  should  be 
given  t(  the  "feeble-minded"  (i  Thess.  5:  14);  and  so  went  on  their 
own   pace.     When  I  was  come   to  Assault-lane,  then  this  giant  met 


ing  fields  of  labor  to  those  that  would  go 
forth  to  seek  for  work  in  the  great  Master's 
cause.  No  expedition  of  this  kind,  if  under- 
taken and  carried  out  in  the  proper  spirit, 
can  be  without  some  good  results ;  some 
feeble-minded  soul  may  be  rescued  ere  the 
giant  has  devoured  him  ;  some  captive  spirit 
delivered  from  the  snare  of  the  destroyer. 

Mr.  Feeble-mind. — The  nature  of  the 
Slant  may,  perhaps  best  be  learned  by 
studying  the  character  of  his  victim.  His 
own  account  of  himself  is  very  touching  and 
beautiful,  and  withal  instructive  too.  It 
supplies  another  phase  of   spiritual  experi- 


ence, and  somewhat  resembles  the  charac- 
ter of  LiTTLF -FAITH  of  the  former  Part,  and 
that  of  Mr.  Fearing  and  others  in  the  pres- 
ent narrative. 

This  man  was  brought  to  serious  thought 
about  his  soul  by  the  frequent  reminders  he 
received  daily  that  he  was  not  to  live  always 
here.  This  induced  him  to  undertake  the 
pilgrimage.  He  was,  however,  one  of  those 
who  are  the  victims  of  constitutional  weak- 
ness and  infirmity  of  spirit.  Such  sickly 
Pilgrims  need  many  of  the  comforts  and 
consolations  of  the  Spirit, and, in  God's  mercy, 
they  receive  them.     But  for  the  daily  inter- 


Mr.  Feeble-niiiid  tells  his  Adventures. 


385 


with  me,  and  bid  me  prepare  for  an  encounter;  but,  alas!  feeble 
one  that  I  was,  I  had  more  need  of  a  cordial ;  so  he  came  up  and 
took  me.  I  conceived  he  would  not  kill  me ;  also  when  he  had  got 
me  into  his  den,  since  I  went  not  with  him  willingly,  I  believed  I 
should  come  out  alive  again  ;  for  I  have  heard  that  not  any  pilgrim 
that  is  taken  captive  by  violent  hands,  if  he  keeps  heart-whole 
towards  his  Master,  is,  by  the  laws  of  providence,  to  die  by  the 
hand  of  the  enemy.  Robbed  I  looked  to  be,  and  robbed  to  be  sure 
I  am  ;  but  I  am,  as  you  see,  escaped  with  life,  for  the  which  I  thank 
my  King  as  the  author,  and  you  as  the  means.  Other  brunts  I  also 
look  for;  but  this  I  have  resolved  on,  to  wit,  to  run  when  I  can,  to 
go  when  I  cannot  run,  and  to  creep  when  I  cannot  go.  As  to  the 
main,  I  thank  Him  that  loved  me,  I  am  fixed;  my  way  is  before  me, 
my  mind  is  beyond  the  river  that  has  no  bridge ;  though  I  am,  as 
you  see,  but  of  a  feeble  mind. 

Then  said  old  Mr.  Honest,  Have  not  you  some  time  ago  been 
acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Fearing,  a  pilgrim  ? 

Fee.  Acquainted  with  him!  yes;  he  came  from  the  town  of 
Stupidity,  which  lieth  four  degrees  northward  of  the  City  of  De- 
struction, and  as  many  off  of  where  I  was  born ;  yet  we  were  well 
acquainted,  for  indeed  he  was  my  uncle,  my  father's  brother.  He 
and  I  have  been  much  of  a  temper ;  he  was  a  little  shorter  than  I, 
but  yet  we  were  much  of  a  complexion. 

Hon.  I  perceive  you  know  him  ;  and  I  am  apt  to  believe  also 
that  you  were  related  one  to  another,  for  you  have  his  whitely  look, 
a  cast  like  his  with  your  eye,  and  your  speech  is  much  alike. 

Fee.  Most  have  said  so  that  have  known  us  both ;  and,  be- 
sides, what  I  have  read  in  him  I  have  for  the  most  part  found  in  myself. 

Come,  sir,  said  good  Gaius,  be  of  good  cheer;  you  are  wel- 
come to  me  and  to  my  house.  What  thou  hast  a  mind  to,  call  for 
freely ;  and  what  thou  wouldst  have  my  servants  do  for  thee,  they 
will  do  it  with  a  ready  mind. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  This  is  an  unexpected  favor,  and 


vention  of  special  providences  in  their  favor, 
they  would  utterly  fail ;  and  yet,  even  with 
these  special  helps,  they  are  liable  to  assault 
and  likely  to  be  overcome.  The  one  thing 
in  this  poor  man's  favor  was,  that  his  heart 
went  not  before  him  into  temptation  ;  the 
root  of  the  matter  was  still  within  him  ;  it 
was  his  weakness,  not  his  will,  that  caused 

25 


him  to  yield  to  the  giant's  power;  and,  see- 
ing that  his  heart  was  still  fixed  on  heavenly 
things,  God  had  mercy  upon  him,  and  deliv- 
ered him  out  of  all  his  afflictions,  and  now 
attaches  him  to  a  Pilgrim-band  with  whom 
he  may  be  more  safe,  and,  in  the  sympathy 
of  their  strength,  may  yet  become  more 
strong. 


386 


The  PUgri7its  Progress, 


as  the  sun  shining  out  of  a  very  dark  cloud.  Did  giant  Slay- good 
intend  me  this  favor  when  he  stopped  me,  and  resolved  to  let  me  gc  no 
farther?  Did  he  intend  that,  after  he  had  rifled  my  pockets,  1 
should  go  to  Gaius  mine  host  ?     Yet  so  it  is. 

Now,  just  as  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Gaius  were  thus  in  talk, 
there  came  one  running,  and  called  at  the  door,  and  said,  that  about 
a  mile  and  a  half  off  there  was  one  Mr.  Not-right,  a  pilgrim,  struck 
dead  upon  the  place  where  he  was  with  a  thunder-bolt. 

Alas!  said  Mr,  Feeble-mind,  is  he  slain?  He  overtook  me 
some  days  before  I  came  so  far  as  hither,  and  would  be  my  com- 
pany-keeper. He  was  also  with  me  when  Slay-good  the  giant  took 
me,  but  he  was  nimble  of  his  heels,  and  escaped;  but  it  seems  he 
escaped  to  die,  and  I  was  taken  to  live. 

What  one  would  think  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 

Ofttimes  delivers  from  the  saddest  plight. 

That  very  Providence  whose  face  is  death, 

Doth  ofttimes  to  the  lowly  life  bequeath. 

I  taken  was,  he  did  escape  and  flee  ; 

Hands  cross'd  gave  death  to  him,  and  life  to  me. 

Now  about  this  time  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  married  ;  als-j 
Gaius  gave  his  daughter  Phebe  to  James,  Matthew's  brother,  to  wife; 
alter  which  time  they  stayed  about  ten  days  at  Gaius's  house,  spend- 
ing their  time  and  the  seasons  like  as  pilgrims  used  to  do. 

When  they  were  to  depart,  Gaius  made  them  a  feast,  and  they 
did  eat  and  drink,  and  were  merry.  Now  the  hour  was  come  that  they 
must  be  gone  ;  wherefore  Mr.  Great-heart  called  for  the  reckoning. 
But  Gaius  told  him  that  at  his  house  it  was  not  the  custom  of  pilgrims 
to  pay  for  their  entertainment.  He  boarded  them  by  the  year,  but 
looked  for  his  pay  from  the  Good  Samaritan,  who  had  promised  him, 
at  his  return,  whatsoever  charge  he  was  at  with  them,  faithfully  to 
repay  him  (Luke  lo  :  34,  35).  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  him, 
Beloved,  thou  doest  faithfully,  whatsoever  thou  doest  to  the  brethren, 
and  to  strangers  ;  which  have  borne  witness  of  thy  charity  before  the 
church  (3  John  :  5,6);  whom  if  thou  bring  forward  on  their  journey 
after  a  goodly  sort,  thou  shalt  do  well. 


Mr.  Not-7-ight  struck  dead. — This  man  was 
wholly  wrong,  hopelessly  lost.  Therefore, 
being  bad,  he  is  far  from  the  power  of  Slay- 
good,  and  thus  escapes  only  to  fall  a  victim 
to  a  severer  stroke  of  j  udgment.  Of  the  two , 
the  Giant  would  rather  have  Feeble-mind, 
for  he  was  on  his  journey  to  the  King,  while 


Not-right  was  on  the  highway  to  the 
Giant's  master,  caught  already  as  his  certain 
prey. 

Matthew  and  Mercy  married. — A  double 
marriage  takes  place  here — Matthew  is 
married  to  Mercy  ;  and  Phebe,  the  daughter 
of  Gaius,  is  married  to  James.     These  mar- 


Tlie  Pilgrims  take  leave  of  Gains. 


387 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  MATTHEW  AND  MERCY. 

Then  Gaiustook  his  leave  of  them  all,  and  his  children,  and  par- 
ticularly of  Mr.  Feeble-mind;  he  also  gave  him  something  to  drink 
by  the  way. 

Now  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  when  they  were  gone  out  at  the  door, 
made  as  if  he  intended  to  linger  ;  the  which  when  Mr.  Great-heart 
espied,  he  said,  Come,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  pray  do  you  go  along  with 
us  ;  I  will  be  your  conductor,  and  you  shall  fare  as  the  rest. 

Fee.  Alas !  I  want  a  suitable  companion  ;  you  are  all  lusty  and 
strong  ;  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak;  I  choose, therefore,  rather  to 
come  behind,  lest  by  reason  of  my  infirmities,  I  should  be  both    a 


riages  are  undoubtedly  "in  the  Lord." 
When  pilgrims  thus  intermarry,  they  prove 
mutually  helpful  in  the  way  of  pilgrimage. 
Pay  from  the  Good  So.vtaritan. — This  is  a 
beautiful  allusion  to  the  parable  of  our  Lord, 
and  shows  that  if  Gaius  "  kept  an  inn  "  for 


the  refreshment  of  pilgrims,  it  was  not  for 
purposes  of  worldly  gain,  and  that  the  en- 
tertainment there  was  purely  of  a  spiritual 
character.  It  is  a  comforting  thought  to  the 
wayfarers  of  the  road  that  they  are  spirit- 
ually cared  for  and  supported  at  the  King's 


388 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


burdt^n  to  myself  and  to  you.  I  am,  as  I  said,  a  man  of  a  weak  and 
feeble  mind,  and  shall  be  offended  and  made  weak  at  that  which  others 
:an  bear.  I  shcdl  like  no  laughing  ;  I  shall  like  no  gay  attire  ;  I  sliall 
like  no  unprofitable  questions.  Nay,  I  am  so  weak  a  man  as  to  be 
offended  with  that  which  others  have  a  liberty  to  do.  I  do  not  know 
all  the  truth  ;  I  am  a  very  ignorant  Christian  man.  Sometimes,  x'i  I 
hear  any  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  it  troubles  me  because  I  cannot  do  so 
too.  It  is  with  me  as  it  is  with  a  weak  man  among  the  strong,  or  as 
with  a  sick  man  among  the  healthy,  or  as  "a  lamp  despised  ;  "  so  that 
I  kr.ow  not  what  to  do.  "  He  that  is  ready  to  slip  with  his  feet,  is  as 
a  lamp  despised  in  the  thought  of  him  that  is  at  ease"  (Job  12:   5). 

But,  brother,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  I  have  it  in  commission  to 
"comfort  the  feeble-minded,"  and  "to  support  the  weak."  You 
must  needs  go  along  with  us  ;  we  will  wait  for  you  ;  we  will  lend  you 
our  help;  we  will  deny  ourselves  of  some  things,  both  opinionative 
and  practical,  foryour  sake;  we  will  not  enter  into  "doubtful  dis- 
putations" before  you  ;  we  will  be  "  made  all  things"  to  you,  rather 
than  you  shall  be  left  behind  (i  Cor.  7  ;  Rom.  14). 

Now  all  this  while  they  were  at  Gaius's  door ;  and  behold,  as 
they  were  thus  in  the  heat  of  their  discourse,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  came 
by,  with  his  crutches  in  his  hand,  and  he  also  was  going  on  pilgrim- 
age (Ps.  38:  17). 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  to  him,  How  camest  thou  hither? 
I  was  but  now  complaining  that  I  had  not  a  suitable  companion  ;  but 


charges  ;  that  their  supply  of  "  daily  bread  " 
comes  from  his  bountiful  hand  ;  and  that  by 
his  care  they  are  brought  on  their  way  to  the 
Better  Land.  So  they  purpose  to  proceed 
upon  their  journey 

Feeble-mind  intended  to  linger. — How 
touching  is  this  story  of  poor  Feeble-mind  ! 
Although  he  is  in  this  iDrave  company,  yet 
he  feels  worse  than  if  he  were  alone.  He  is 
so  weak,  and  they  are  so  strong,  he  cannot 
but  feel  a  want  of  sympathy  with  his  own 
state  and  experience.  He  is  a  type  of  that 
class  of  Christian  men  who  are  of  weak  and 
tender  conscience,  easily  offended  and  made 
weak.  The  Christian  liberty  of  other  men 
stumbles  him.  He  therefore  feels  that  he 
may  prove  but  a  burden  to  his  fellow-pil- 
^"riins,  and  longs  for  some  companion  of 
5  ke  spirit  with  his  own,  with  whom  he  might 
keep  easy  pace  in  the  path  of  the  pilgrimage. 


But  see  how  Great-heart  deals  with  his 
weak  brother  !  This  bold,  brave,  lion-hearted 
man  stoops  to  the  necessities  of  his  feeble- 
minded comrade ;  and,  in  his  answer,  he 
gives  expression  to  the  very  spirit  of  the 
Gospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  In  a  body  con- 
stituted as  is  the  Church  of  Christ  on  earth, 
there  are  diversities  of  character ;  some  are 
weak  and  some  are  strong.  Now,  plainly, 
the  strong  must  have  some  duty  to  perform 
towards  those  that  are  weak.  St.  Paul  pro- 
vides for  this.  He  tells  us  that  conscience 
must  be  the  judge  for  each  man's  conduct. 
But  if  there  should  come  a  conflict  of  con- 
sciences— the  strong  and  the  weak — what 
then  ?  Is  the  strong  man's  conscience,  by 
reason  of  its  strength,  to  overbear  the  con- 
science of  the  weak?  No;  rather  must  the 
strong  man's  conscience  yield  to  the  con- 
science of  the  weak,  lest  a  stumbling-block 


Mr.  Ready-to-halt  joins  the  Pilgrims.  389 

thou  art   according    to  my  wish.      Welcome,  welcome,  good    Mr. 
Ready-to-halt ;  I  hope  thou  and  I  may  be  some  help. 

I  shall  be  glad  of  thy  company,  said  the  other ;  and,  good  Mr. 
Feeble-mind,  rather  than  we  will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met, 
I  will  lend  thee  one  of  my  crutches. 

Fee.  Nay;  though  I  thank  thee  for  thy  good  will,  I  am  not  in- 
clined to  halt  before  I  am  lame.  Howbeit,  I  think  when  occasion  is, 
it  may  help  me  against  a  dog. 

Ready.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can  do  thee  a  pleasure, 
we  are  both  at  thy  command,  good  Mr.  Feeble-mind. 

Thus,  therefore,  they  went  on.  Mr.  Great-heart  and  Mr.  Hon- 
est went  before,  Christiana  and  her  children  went  next,  and  Mr. 
Feeble-mind  came  behind,  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  with  his  crutches. 
Then  said  Mr.  Honest,,  Pray,  sir,  now  we  are  upon  the  road,  tell  us 
some  profitable  things  of  some  that  have  gone  on  pilgrimage  before  us. 

Great.  With  a  good  will.  I  suppose  you  have  heard  how 
Christian  of  old  did  meet  with  Apollyon  in  the  Valley  of  Humilia- 
tion, and  also  what  hard  work  he  had  to  go  through  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death.  Also  I  think  you  cannot  but  have  heard  how 
Faithful  was  put  to  it  by  Madam  Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First,  with 
one  Discontent,  and  Shame — four  as  deceitful  villains  as  a  man  can 
meet  with  upon  the  road. 

Hon.  Yes,  I  believe  I  have  heard  of  all  this ;  but  indeed  good 
Faithful  was  hardest  put  to  it  with  Shame ;  he  was  an  unwearied  one. 

Great.  Aye  ;  for  as  the  pilgrim  well  said.  He  of  all  men  had 
the  wrong  name. 

Hon.  But  pray,  sir,  where  was  it  that  Christian  and  Faithful  met 
Talkative  ?  that  same  was  also  a  notable  one. 


be  cast  in  the  way  of  a  weak  brother  for 
whom  Christ  hath  died.  Great-heart  has 
learned  this  great  principle  of  the  Gospel ; 
and,  accordingly,  he  pronounces  himself 
ready  to  stoop  very  low,  and  to  resign  many 
things, and  to  exercise  great  forbearance  of  his 
Chiistian  liberty,  rather  than  this  man  should 
be  left  behind,  or  be  caused,  by  his  example, 
to  stumble  in  the  way.  We  have  all  much 
to  learn  from  this  exercise  of  the  Christian 
liberty  of  Great-heart,  the  brave  conductor 
of  the  pilgrimage. 

Ready-to-halt  came  by. — Notwithstanding 


God's  mercy  grants  the  wish  of  the  feeble 
Pilgrim  ;  and,  lo  !  as  they  are  debating,  one 
came  by,  whose  name  is  Readv-to-halt. 
This  man  leans  upon  crutches,  and,  though 
weak,  is  yet  consistently  pursuing  his  pil- 
grimage. 

In  a  side-note,  Bunyan  interprets  the 
"  crutches  "  to  mean  "  the  Promises,"  upon 
which  this  halting  Christian  has  learned  to 
lean  and  to  support  himself.  Here,  then,  is 
a  companion  who  will  walk  with  Feeble- 
mind,  and  enter  into  the  feeling  of  his  in- 
firmities, and   thoroughly   sympathize   with 


Great-heart's  willingness  to  conform  in  all      him  in  his  lowly  state  and  condition.     And 
things  to  Mr.  Feeble-mind's  necessities,  yet      both  these  men.  naturally  and  constitution- 


390 


The  Pilgrim'' s  Progress. 


Great.    He  was  a  confident  fool ;  yet  many  follow  his  ways. 

Hon.    He  had  liked  to  have  beguiled  Faithful. 

Great.  Aye,  but  Christian  put  him  into  a  way  quickly  to  find 
him  out. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  place  where  Evangelist 
met  with  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  prophesied  to  them  what 
should  befall  them  at  Vanity  Fair, 

Then  said  their  Guide,  Hereabouts  did  Christian  and  Faithful 
meet  with  Evangelist,  who  prophesied  to  them  of  what  troubles  they 
should  meet  with  at  Vanity  Fair. 

Hon.  Say  you  so  ?  I  dare  say  it  was  a  hard  chapter  then  that 
he  did  read  unto  them. 

Great.  It  was  so  ;  but  he  gave  them  encouragement  withal. 
But  what  do  we  talk  of  them  ?  They  were  a  couple  of  lion-like  men  ; 
they  had  set  their  faces  like  flints.  Do  not  you  remember  how  un- 
daunted they  were  when  they  stood  before  the  judge  ? 

Hon.    Well,  F^aithful  bravely  suffered. 

Great.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  of  it ;  for  Hopeful 
and  some  others,  as  the  story  relates  it,  were  converted  by  his  death. 

Hon.  Well,  but  pray  go  on  ;  for  you  are  well  acquainted  with 
thincrs. 

Great.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  with  after  he  had  passed 
through  Vanity  Fair,  one  By-ends  was  the  arch  one. 

Hon.    By-ends  !     What  was  he  ? 

Great.  A  very  arch  fellow,  a  downright  hypocrite  ;  one  that 
would  be  religious  which  way  soever  the  world  went ;  but  so  cunning, 
that  he  would  be  sure  neither  to  lose  nor  suffer  for  it.  He  had  his 
mode  of  religion  for  every  fresh  occasion  ;  and  his  wife  was  as  good 
at  it  as  he.  He  would  turn  from  opinion  to  opinion  ;  yea,  and  plead 
for  so  doing,  too.  But,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  he  came  to  an  ill  end 
with  his  by-ends ;  nor  did  I  ever  hear  if  any  of  his  children  were  ever 
of  any  esteem  with  any  that  truly  feared  God. 


ally  feeble  and  halting,  will  be  made  strong, 
and  be  brought  on  their  way  by  the  friendly 
aid  and  Christian  forbearance  of  their 
stronger    companions,    who    have    meekly 


learned  the  great  Gospel  duty — "To  the 
weak  became  I  as  weak,  that  I  might  gain 
the  weak  ;  I  am  made  all  things  to  all  men, 
that  I  might  by  all  means  save  some  '' 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Vanity  Fair  and  Mr.  Mnason's  House. 

Onwarsj  *tjll  moves  the  company  of  the  Second  Pilgrimage ;  and  now,  without  hurt 
or  damage,  without  any  serious  downfall  or  drawback,  they  approach,  under  the  bravc 
coz-'duct  of  their  guide,  to  the  vicinity  of  Vanity  Fair. 

low  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  of  the  towr. 
of  Vanity,  where  Vanity  Fair  is  kept.  So,  when  they  savv 
that  they  were  so  near  the  town,  they  consulted  with  one 
another  how  they  should  pass  through  the  town;  and  some 
said  one  thing,  and  some  another.  At  last  Mr.  Great- 
heart  said,  I  have,  as  you  may  understand,  often  been  a  conductor  of 
pilgrims  through  this  town;  now,  I  am  acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Mna- 
son,  a  Cyprusian  by  nation  and  an  old  disciple,  at  whose  house  we 
may  lodge.     If  you  think  good,  we  will  turn  in  there. 

Content,  said  old  Honest  ;  Content,  said  Christiana  ;  Content, 
said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  ;  and  so  they  said  all.  Now  you  must  think  it 
was  eventide  by  that  they  got  to  the  outside  of  the  town  ;  but  Mr. 
Great-heart  knew  the  way  to  the  old  man's  house.  So  thither  they 
came  ;  and  he  called  at  the  door,  and  the  old  man  within  knew  his 
tongue  as  soon  as  ever  he  heard  it ;  so  he  opened,  and  they  all  came 
in.  Then  said  Mnason,  their  host.  How  far  have  you  come  to-day  ? 
So  they  said,  From  the  house  of  Gains,  your  friend.  I  promise  you, 
said  he,  you  have  come  a  good  stretch  ;  you  may  well  be  weary ;  sit 
down.     So  they  sat  down. 


They  consulted  with  one  another. — The 
Pilgrims  are  nearing  a  point  of  danger — 
danger  hitherto  attaching  to  both  body  and 
soul.  In  anticipation  of  possible  perils,  they 
take  counsel  together.  They  have  the  fate 
of  Faithful  and  the  experience  of  Chris- 
tian before  their  eyes ;  and  it  needs  some 
forethought  and  preparation  before  they 
commit  themselves  to  like  protests  and  perils 
of  the  town  of  Vanity.  On  the  eve  of  some 
great  battle,  a  council  of  war  is  held ;  in 
prospect  of  some  vast  expedition,  the  pro- 
jectors take  mutual  counsel  and  advice.    So, 


in  advance  of  spiritual  dangers  and  tests,  it 
behooves  the  wayfaring  Pilgrims  to  advise 
with  each  other  in  godly  and  spiritual  con- 
sultation. 

One  Mnason,  a  Cyprusian. — How  com- 
fortable to  know  that  in  this  godless  town 
there  is  a  home  for  the  Christian,  a  commun- 
ion-place for  Pilgrims,  an  altar  erected  to 
the  Lord  of  all !  There  was  a  time  when 
former  Pilgrims  found  in  it  no  home,  no 
friend,  no  sweet  communion  of  faithful  men. 
In  those  days  there  were  but  rage  and  hatred 
and  ungoverned  fury  against  the  servants  of 


(391) 


I— ( 

< 
>- 

H 

1—1 

< 
> 

o 

o 
I— ( 


W 

o 
u 

I— ( 

:^ 

O 

I—' 

A, 
W 

h 


The  Pilgrims  abide  in   Vaiiity  Fair. 


S93 


Then  said  their  guide,  Come,  what  cheer,  good  sirs  ?  I  dare  say 
you  are  welcome  to  my  friend. 

I  also,  said  Mr.  Mnason,  do  bid  you  welcome;  and  whatever  you 
want,  do  but  say,  and  we  will  do  what  we  can  to  get  it  for  you. 

Hon.  Our  great  want,  a  while  since,  was  harbor  and  good  com- 
pany, and  now  I  hope  we  have  both. 

Mnas.  For  harbor,  you  see  what  it  is ;  but  for  good  company, 
that  will  appear  in  the  trial. 

Well,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  will  you  have  the  pilgrims  into  their 
lodging  ? 

I  will,  said  Mr.  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  to  their  respective 
places,  and  also  showed  them  a  very  fair  dining-room,  where  they 
might  be,  and  sup  togedier,  until  time  should  come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now  when  they  were  seated  in  their  places,  and  were  a  litde  re- 
freshed after  their  journey,  Mr.  Honest  asked  this  landlord  if  there 
were  any  store  of  good  people  in  the  town  ? 

Mnas.  We  have  a  few  ;  for  indeed  they  are  but  a  few,  when  com- 
pared with  them  on  the  other  side. 

Hon.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them  ?  for  the  sight 
of  good  men,  to  them  that  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  is  like  to  the  ap- 
pearing of  the  moon  and  stars  to  them  that  are  sailing  upon  the  seas. 

Then  Mr.  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot,  and  his  daughter  Grace 
came  up  ;  so  he  said  unto  her,  Grace,  go  you,  tell  my  friends,  Mr. 
Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man,  Mr.  Love-saints,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr. 
Penitent,  that  I  have  a  friend  or  two  at  my  house,  who  have  a  mind 
this  evening  to  see  them. 

So  Grace  went  to  call  them,  and  they  came  ;  and  after  salutation 
made,  they  sat  down  together  at  the  table. 


the  Lord  ;  a  partial  jury,  a  prejudiced  judge, 
perjured  witnesses,  and  persecution  as  the 
punishment  of  those  that  loved  the  truth. 
But  now  there  is  a  seed  to  serve  the  Lord. 
God  fearing  men  and  Christ-loving  men  are 
permitted  to  live  within  its  bounds.  A  con- 
gregation of  faithful  men  is  gathered  from 
among  its  population,  and  godly  communion 
and  fellowship  may  be  largely  and  blessedly 
enjoyed  there. 

Outside  of  the  town. — The  little  flock  must 
be  separate,  as  Israel  in  Goshen,  not  dwell- 
ing among  the  Egyptians.  Within  the 
walls  some  possibly  may  live,  and  all  may 
be  obUged  to  conduct  their  ordinary  busi- 


ness ;  but  for  spiritual  purposes  they  must 
be  apart  and  away  from  the  crowd  and  bustle 
of  a  place  so  wholly  given  to  Mammon  as 
the  town  of  Vanity.  We  must  learn  to  with- 
draw ourselves  into  the  peace  and  quietude 
of  Christian  fellowship;  and  there,  apart 
from  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  and  away  from 
the  distracting  occupations  of  our  own  hves, 
to  hold  communion  with  our  God  and  Sav- 
iour, and  with  the  people  of  his  choice. 

Harbor  and  good  company. — The  wants  of 
pilgrims  here  below  may  be  summed  up  in 
these  two  requirements — a  place  of  safety  to 
abide  in,  and  the  company  of  like-minded 
men  to  communicate  with,  whereby  spiritual 


394 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


Then  said  Mr.  Mnason,  their  landlord :  My  neighbors,  I  Kave. 
AS  you  see,  a  company  of  strangers  come  to  my  house  ;  they  are  pil- 
grims ;  they  come  from  afar,  and  are  going  to  Mount  Zion.  But  who; 
quoth  he,  do  you  think  this  is?  pointing  his  finger  at  Christiana.  It 
is  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  that  famous  pilgrim,  who,  with 
Faithful  his  brother,  was  so  shamefully  handled  in  our  town.  At  that 
tliey  stood  amazed,  saying,  We  little  thought  to  see  Christiana,  when 
Grace  came  to  call  us  ;  wherefore  this  is  a  very  comfortable  surprise. 
They  then  asked  her  of  her  welfare,  and  if  these  young  men  were  her 
husband's  sons.  And  when  she  had  told  them  they  were,  they  said, 
The  King,  whom  you  love  and  serve,  make  you  as  your  father,  and 
bring  you  where  he  is  in  peace. 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  when  they  were  all  sat  down,  asked  Mr. 
Contrite  and  the  rest,  in  what  posture  their  town  was  at  present? 

Con.  You  may  be  sure  we  are  full  of  hurry  in  fair  time.  It  is 
hard  keeping  our  hearts  and  spirits  in  good  order  when  we  are  in  a 
cumbered  condition.  He  that  lives  In  such  a  place  as  this,  and  has 
to  do  with  such  as  we  have,  has  need  of  an  item,  to  caution  him  to 
take  heed  every  moment  of  the  day. 

Hon.    But  how  are  your  neighbors  now  for  quietness  ? 

Con.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than  formerly.  You 
know  how  Christian  and  Faithful  were  used  at  our  town  ;  but  of  late, 
I  say,  they  have  been  far  more  moderate.  I  think  the  blood  of  Faith- 
ful lieth  as  a  load  upon  them  till  now  ;  for  since  they  burned  him, 
they  have  been  ashamed  to  burn  any  more.  In  those  days  we  were 
afraid  to  walk  the  streets,  but  now  we  can  show  our  heads.  Then 
the  name  of  a  professor  was  odious  ;  now,  especially  in  some  parts  of 
our  town  (for  you  know  our  town  is  large),  religion  is  counted 
honorable. 


supplies  are  poured  into  the  heart,  and  the 
Pilgrim-band  is  fed  and  furnished  for  the 
perils  and  necessities  of  the  outward  way. 

More  particularly  in  such  a  place  as 
Vanity  is  it  pleasant  to  meet  with  spiritual 
fare  and  friends.  The  latter,  however,  are 
but  few,  but  yet  are  as  the  moon  and  stars 
at  night.  We  may  not  have  full  sunshine  ; 
but,  at  least,  amid  the  darkness  of  this  dark 
world,  God  reveals  the  moonlight  radiance 
and  the  starlight  gems — the  reflected  glories 
of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  The  light  in 
which  the  Christian  walks  in  this  world  is  as 


the  light  of  the  moon — sometimes  waxing, 
sometimes  waning.  Fellow-Christians  are 
as  welcome  to  our  path  as  are  the  bright 
stars  in  the  firmament  to  the  weary  traveller 
at  nightfall.  Christian  men,  like  stars,  re- 1 
ceive  light  and  reflect  light;  thus  shedding 
their  bright  but  borrowed  rays  down  upon 
the  dark  pavements  of  human  society — 

"Nor  let  the  meanest  think 
His  lamp  too  dim; 
In  this  dark  world 
The  Lord  hath  need  of  him." 

Some  notable  rubs. — The   Pilgrims   com- 


Friends  in  Vmitty  Fair, 


395 


CONTRITE  AND  HONEST  CONVERSE. 

Then  said  Mr.  Contrite  to  them,  Pray  how  fareth  it  with  you  in 
your  pilgrimage  ?  How  stands  the  country  affected  towards  you  ? 

Hon.  It  happens  to  us  as  it  happeneth  to  wayfaring  men ; 
sometimes  our  way  is  clean,  sometimes  foul ;  sometimes  up  hill,  some- 
times down  hill;  we  are  seldom  at  a  certainty ;  the  wind  is  not  always 
on  our  backs,  nor  is  everyone  a  friend  that  we  meet  with  in  the  way. 
We  have  met  with  some  notable  rubs  already;  and  what  are  yet  be- 
hind we  know  not ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  we  find  it  true  that  has 
been  talked  of  old,  "A  good  man  must  suffer  trouble." 

Con.    You  talk  of  rubs  ;  what  rubs  have  you  met  with  ? 


pare  notes  and  exchange  their  experiences 
of  the  way.  Old  Honest  and  Mr.  Great- 
heart  detail  some  of  the  salient  points  of 
the  pilgrimage ;  and  then  the  whole  party 
are  counselled  by  the  good  and  timely  ad- 
vice of  these  good  men,  who  have  been 
gathered  out  of  the  giddy  multitude  of  Van- 
ity into  the  congregation  of  Christ's  flock. 
The  names  of  these  men  are  suggestive  of 


the  feelings  and  experiences  of  those  who 
have  been  delivered  from  the  sins  of  Vanity, 
and  yet  must  dwell  in  the  midst  of  this 
naughty  world. 

Contrite  is  impressed  with  deep  sorrow 
for  sin,  past,  and.  true  to  his  nature,  enjoins 
watchfulness  against  the  rising  seeds  of  in- 
dwelling sin.  Holy-man  would  have  us  to 
be  separate  from  sinners,  and,  for  this  pur- 


396 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


Hon.  Nay,  ask  Mr.  Great-heart,  our  guide,  for  he  can  give  the 
best  account  of  that. 

Great.  We  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times  already.  First, 
Christiana  and  her  children  were  beset  with  two  ruffians,  who  they 
feared  would  take  away  their  lives.  We  were  beset  by  Giant  Bloody- 
man,  Giant  Maul,  and  Giant  Slay-good.  Indeed,  we  did  rather  beset 
the  last,  than  were  beset  of  him.  And  thus  it  was:  after  we  had 
been  some  time  at  the  house  of  "  Gains  mine  host,  and  of  the  whole 
church,"  we  were  minded  upon  a  time  to  take  our  weapons  with  us, 
and  go  and  see  if  we  could  light  upon  any  of  those  that  were  enemies 
to  pilgrims ;  for  we  heard  that  there  was  a  notable  one  thereabouts. 
Now  Gains  knew  his  haunt  better  than  I,  because  he  dwelt  there- 
about; so  we  looked  and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned  the  mouth 
of  his  cave  ;  then  we  were  glad,  and  plucked  up  our  spirits.  So  we 
approached  up  to  his  den ;  and  lo,  when  we  came  there,  he  had 
dragged,  by  mere  force,  into  his  net  this  poor  man,  Mr.  Feeble-mind, 
and  was  about  to  bring  him  to  his  end.  But  when  he  saw  us,  sup- 
posing, as  we  thought,  he  had  another  prey,  he  left  the  poor  man  in 
his  den,  and  came  out.  So  we  fell  to  it  full  sore,  and  he  lustily  laid 
about  him ;  but  in  conclusion  he  was  brought  down  to  the  ground, 
and  his  head  cut  off  and  set  up  by  the  way-side,  for  a  terror  to  such 
as  should  after  pracdse  such  ungodliness.  That  I  tell  you  the  truth, 
here  is  the  man  himself  to  affirm  it,  who  was  as  a  lamb  taken  out  of 
the  mouth  of  the  lion. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  I  have  found  this  true,  to  my  cost 
and  comfort ;  to  my  cost,  when  he  threatened  to  pick  my  bones  every 
moment;  and  to  my  comfort,  when  I  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his 
friends,  with  their  weapons,  approach  so  near  for  my  deliverance. 

Then  said  Mr.  Holy-man,  There  are  two  things  that  they  have 
need  to  be  possessed  of  that  go  on  pilgrimage — courage  and  an 
unspotted  life.  If  they  have  not  courage,  they  can  never  hold  on 
their  way  ;  and  if  their  lives  be  loose,  they  will  make  the  very  name 
of  a  pilgrim  stink. 


pose,  to  possess  the  characteristics  of  godly 
courage  and  true  holiness — requirements 
essentially  needed  in  a  world  of  sin  and 
strong  temptation.  Love-saints  knows  the 
value  of  Christian  fellowship ;  and, seeing  how 
few  the  little  flock  ever  are,  he  loves  them 
each,  he  loves  them  all.  Though  the  flock 
be  small,  yet  it    would  be  very    strong  if 


bound  and  banded  together  in  the  spirit  of 
love,  which  is  "  the  very  bond  of  peace  and 
of  all  virtues."  Dare-not-lie  abhors  the 
falsehoods  and  deceitful  ways  of  the  world, 
and  would  incorporate  into  the  Christian 
body  the  character  of  truth  and  truthfulness. 
Lies  and  deceptions  are  the  rags  and  rents 
of  the  Pilgrim's  garb,  the  incongruities    of 


Marriage  of  Christiana  s  Sons. 


397 


Then  said  Mr.  Love-saints,  I  hope  this  caution  is  not  needful 
among  you  ;  but  truly  there  are  many  that  go  on  the  road  who  rather 
declare  themselves  strangers  to  pilgrims  than  "  strangers  and  pilgrims 
on  the  earth." 

Then  said  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  It  is  true  they  neither  have  the  pil- 
grim's weed  nor  the  pilgrim's  courage  ;  they  go  not  uprightly,  but  all 
awry,  with  their  feet;  one  shoe  goeth  inward,  another  outward,  and 
their  hosen  are  torn  ;  there  is  here  a  rag,  and  there  a  rent,  to  the 
disparagement  of  their  Lord. 

These  things,  said  Mr.  Penitent,  they  ought  to  be  troubled  for  ; 
nor  are  the  pilgrims  like  to  have  that  grace  upon  them  and  their  pil- 
grim's progress  as  they  desire,  until  the  way  is  cleared  of  such  spots 
and  blemishes. 

Thus  they  sat  talking  and  spending  the  time  until  supper  was 
set  upon  the  table.  Unto  which  they  went,  and  refreshed  their  weary 
bodies  ;  so  they  retired  to  rest.  Now  they  stayed  in  the  fair  a  great 
while,  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Mnason,  who,  in  process  of  time,  gave  his 
daughter  Grace  unto  Samuel,  Christiana's  son,  to  wife,  and  his  daugh- 
ter Martha  to  Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I  said,  that  they  stayed  here  was  long  ;  for  it  was  not 
now  as  in  former  times.  Wherefore  the  pilgrims  grew  acquainted 
with  many  of  the  good  people  of  the  town,  and  did  them  what  service 
they  could.  Mercy,  as  she  was  wont,  labored  much  for  the  poor; 
wherefore  their  bellies  and  backs  blessed  her,  and  she  was  there  an 
ornament  to  her  profession.  And  to  say  the  truth  for  Grace,  Phebe 
and  Martha,  they  were  all  of  a  very  good  nature,  and  did  much  good 
in  their  places.  They  were  also  all  of  them  very  fruitful  ;  so  that 
Christiana's  name,  as  we  said  before,  was  like  to  live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here,  there  came  a  monster  out  of  the  woods, 
and  slew  many  of  the  people  of  the  town.  It  would  also  carry  away 
their  children,  and  teach  them  to  suck  its  whelps.  Now  no  man  in 
the  town  durst  so  much  as  face  this  monster;  but  all  fled  when  they 
heard  of  the  noise  of  his  comingf.     The  monster  was  like  unto  no  one 


the  Pilgrim's  rule  and  raiment.  The  Chris- 
tian wears  "  the  girdle  of  truth  about  his 
loins."  Lastly,  Penitent  has  ever  the  re- 
membrance of  his  sin  before  his  face,  and 
grieves  that  he  should  have  so  grievously 
offended  his  Lord,  and  fears  to  offend  again. 
Here  the  group  is  again  augmented  by 
another  double  marriage.     Their   host   be- 


stows his  two  daughters  in  marriage  to 
Christiana's  remaining  sons,  giving  Grace 
to  Samuel,  and  Martha  to  Joseph.  These 
marriages  are  also  "  in  the  Lord,"  believers 
equally  yoked  together,  making  up  a  com- 
pany of  Christians,  members  of  one  family, 
large  in  faith,  and  abounding  in  good  works  ; 
wielding  a  Christian  influence,  and  making 


398 


Thi 


Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


beast  on  the  earth  ;  its  body  was  "like  a  dragon,  and  it  had  seven 
heads  and  ten  horns"  (Rev.  12:3).  It  made  great  havoc  of  children, 
and  yet  it  was  governed  by  a  woman.  This  monster  propounded 
conditions  to  men  ;  and  such  men  as  loved  their  lives  more  than 
their  souls  accepted  of  those  conditions.     So  they  came  under. 

Now  Mr.  Great-heart,  together  with  those  who  came  to  visit  the 
pilgrims  at  Mr.  Mnason's  house,  entered  into  a  covenant  to  go  and 
engage  this  beast,  if  perhaps  they  might  deliver  the  people  of  this 
town  from   the  paws  and  mouth  of  this  so  devouring  a  serpent. 

Then  did  Mr.  Great-heart,  Mr  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man,  Mr.  Dare- 
not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  with  their  weapons,  go  forth  to  meet  him. 
Now  the  monster,  at  first,  was  very  rampant,  and  looked  upon  these 
enemies  with  great  disdain;  but  they  so  belabored  him,  being  sturdy 
men-at-arms,  that  they  made  him  make  a  retreat  ;  so  they  came 
home  to  Mr.  Mnason's  house  again. 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  seasons  to  come 
out  in,  and  to  make  his  attempts  upon  the  children  of  the  people  of 
the  town.  At  these  seasons  did  these  valiant  worthies  watch  him  in, 
and  did  continually  assault  him  ;  insomuch  that  in  process  of  time  he 
became  not  only  wounded,  but  lame  ;  also  he  had  not  made  that  havoc 
of  the  townsmen's  children  as  formerly  he  had  done  ;  and  it  is  verily 
believed  by  some  that  this  beast  will  certainly  die  of  his  wounds. 
This  therefore  made  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  fellows  of  great  fame  in 
this  town  ;  so  that  many  of  the  people,  that  wanted  their  taste  of 
things,  yet  had  a  reverent  esteem  and  respect  for  them.  Upon  this 
account  therefore  it  was  that  these  pilgrims  got  not  much  hurt  there. 
True,  there  were  some  of  the  baser  sort,  that  could  see  no  more 
than  a  mole,  nor  understand  any  more  than  a  beast ;  these  had  no 
reverence  for  these  men,  nor  took  they  notice  of  their  valor  and 
adventures. 


it  felt,  in  their  locality  and  neighborhood. 
Would  that  it  were  so  with  all  the  Christian 
families  of  the  land  ! 

A  monster  out  of  the  woods. —  'Wn^  evi- 
dently is  an  historical  allusion,  and  seems  to 
refer  particularly  to  the  spread  of  the  power 
of  the  Papacy  for  some  time  before  the 
period  of  the  Revolution  in  1688,  whereby 
many  were  drawn  into  the  net  of  supersti- 
tion, and  children  were  educated  in  the 
tenets  and  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 
This  danger  was  met  by  able  men  of  the 


period — men  who  loved  the  truth,  and  uttered 
a  bold  and  manly  protest  against  error 
Some  of  the  ablest  controversial  essays 
against  the  distinctive  doctrines  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  were  issued  during 
the  period,  including  the  "  Morning  Exer- 
cises," delivered  at  Cripplegate,  and  the 
series  of  tracts  or  essays  afterwards  com- 
piled by  Dr  Gibson,  Bishop  of  London, 
and  recently  reissued  in  a  series  of  volumes, 
entitled  "  Gibson's  Preservative  against 
Popery."     The  writers   of  these  works,  no 


400 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress, 


Well,  the  time  drew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go  on  their  way;' 
therefore  they  prepared  for  their  journey.  They  sent  for  their 
friends  ;  they  conferred  with  them  ;  they  had  some  time  set  apart 
therein  to  commit  each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  Prince. 
There  were  again  that  brought  them  of  such  things  as  they  had, 
that  were  fit  for  the  weak  and  the  strong,  for  the  women  and  the  men, 
and  so  laded  them  with  such  things  as  were  necessary  (Acts  28  :  10). 
Then  they  set  forward  on  their  way ;  and  their  friends  accompany- 
ing them  as  far  as  was  convenient,  they  again  committed  each  other 
to  the  protection  of  their  King  and  parted. 

They,  therefore,  that  were  of  the  pilgrims'  company  went  on, 
and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  before  them.  Now  the  women  and  chil- 
dren being  weakly,  they  were  forced  to  go  as  they  could  bear.  By 
this  means  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  more  to 
sympathize  with  their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and  when  their 
friends  had  bid  them  farewell,  they  quickly  came  to  the  place  where 
Faithful  was  put  to  death;  therefore  they  made  a  stand,  and  thanked 
Him  that  had  enabled  him  to  bear  his  cross  so  well  ;  and  the  rather, 
because  they  now  found  that  they  had  a  benefit  by  such  a  man's  suf- 
ferings as  his  were.  They  went  on,  therefore,  after  this  a  good  way 
farther,  talking  of  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  how  Hopeful  joined 
himself  to  Christian  after  that  Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  they  were  come  up  with  the  hill  Lucre,  where  the  silver 
mine  was  which  took  Demas  off  from  his  pilgrimage,  and  into  which, 
as  some  think.  By-ends  fell  and  perished  ;  wherefore  they  considered 
that.  But  when  they  were  come  to  the  old  monument  that  stood 
over  against  the  hill  Lucre,  to  wit,  to  the  pillar  of  salt,  that  stood 
also  within  view  of  Sodom  and  its  stinking  lake,  they  marvelled,  as 
did  Christian  before,  that  men  of  that  knowledge  and  ripeness  of 
wit,  as  they  were,  should  be  so  blind  as  to  turn  aside  here.  Only 
they  considered  again,  that  nature  is  not  affected  with  the  harms  that 
others  have  met  with,  especially  if  that  thing  upon  which  they  look 
has  an  attracting  virtue  upon  the  foolish  eye. 


doubt,  were  the  Great-hearts  and  Hon- 
ESTS  of  the  day,  who  went  forth  to  subdue 


the  spirit  of  the    wrathful   and   destructive 
monster  of  the  woods. 


I 


CHAPTER  X. 


The  Delectable  Mountains  and  the  Shepherds. 

This  chapter  contains  a  record  of  some  bold  exploits  of  the  Pilgrim-band.  Their 
flumbers  are  many,  and  their  faith  is  strong  ;  and  therefore  they  feel  disposed  to  leave  their 
footprints  on  the  way,  not  way-marks  of  weakness,  but  permanent  records  of  their  strength 
and  Christian  prowess.  The  experiments  of  believing  faith  are  always  bold  ventures,  de- 
signed for  the  removal  of  some  wrong,  or  the  prevention  of  some  evil,  or  the  establishment 
of  some  good  thing — to  be  in  after-times  a  help  and  assistance  to  other  Pilgrims  who  may 
pass  that  way.  Accordingly,  the  lot  of  the  Pilgrims  having  just  now  fallen  in  pleasant 
places,  they  are  invigorated  for  the  march  ;  and,  as  the  result  of  the  large  provision  and 
refreshment  they  have  received,  they  propose  a  very  manly  and  Christian  undertaking — the 
destruction  of  Doubting  Castle  and  its  great  master,  Giant  Despair.  Here  there  is  great 
play  allowed  to  the  diverse  characters  of  the  company — the  strong  men  fighting,  and  the 
weak  ones  tarrying  among  the  baggage,  showing  that  there  is  work  for  each  and  for  all,  not 
only  in  the  Lord's  vineyard,  but  also  in  the  Lord's  battle-field. 

SAW  now  that  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  river 
that  was  on  this  side  of  the  Delectable  Mountains;  to  the 
river  where  the  fine  trees  grow  on  both  sides,  and  whose 
leaves,  if  taken  inwardly,  are  good  against  surfeits;  where 
the  meadows  are  green  all  the  year  long,  and  where  they 
might  lie  down  safely   (Ps.   23). 

By  this  river-side,  in  the  meadows,  there  were  cotes  and  folds  for 
sheep,  a  house  built  for  the  nourishing  and  bringing  up  of  those  lambs, 
the  babes  of  these  women  that  go  on  pilgrimage.  Also  there  was 
here  One  that  was  intrusted  with  them,  who  could  have  compassion 
and  that  could  gather  these  lambs  with  his  arm,  and  carry  them  in 
his  bosom,  and  that  could  gently  lead  those  that  were  with  young 
(Heb.  5:2;  Isa.  40:  11).  Now  to  the  care  of  this  man  Christiana 
admonished  her  four  daughters  to  commit  their  little  ones,  that  by 


They  came  to  the  river. — This  is  "  the 
river  of  the  water  of  life,"  beside  whose 
streams  the  former  Pilgrims  had  for  a  season 
enjoyed  such  quietude  and  rest.  To  the 
present  company  also  this  "river  of  God  " 
is  pleasan-t  and  refreshing  ;  its  evergreens 
cover  the  Pilgrims  with  their  peaceful  shade  ; 


and  they  can  lie  down,  and  sleep,  and  be  in 
safety.  There  is  further  added  to  the  scene, 
as  here  described,  the  tender  care  bestowed 
by  our  good  heavenly  Father  upon  the  little 
ones  of  his  flock.  This  allusion  is  suggested 
by  the  circumstances  of  the  Pilgrims — chil- 
dren having  been  born  to  those  God-fearing 


26 


(401) 


402 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress, 


these  waters  they  might  be  housed,  harbored,  succored,  and  nour- 
ished, and  that  none  of  them  might  be  lacking  in  time  to  come. 
This  man,  if  any  of  them  go  astray,  or  be  lost,  he  will  bring  them 
again ;  he  will  also  bind  up  that  which  was  broken,  and  will 
strengthen  them  that  are  sick  (Jer.  23:  4;  Ezek.  34:  11-16).  Here 
they  will  never  want  meat,  drink,  and  clothing ;  here  they  will  be 
kept  from  thieves  and  robbers ;  for  this  man  will  die  before  one 
of  those  committed  to  his  trust  shall  be  lost.  Besides,  here  they 
shall  be  sure  to  have  good  nurture  and  admonition,  and  shall  be 
taught  to  walk  in  right  paths ;  and  that  you  know  is  a  favor  of  no 
small  account.  Also  here,  as  you  see,  are  delicate  waters,  pleasant 
meadows,  dainty  flowers,  variety  of  trees,  and  such  as  bear  whole- 
some fruit — fruit  not  like  that  which  Matthew  ate  of,  that  fell  over  the 
wall  out  of  Beelzebub's  garden ;  but  fruit  that  procureth  health 
where  there  is  none,  and  that  continueth  and  increaseth  it  where  it 
is.  So  they  were  content  to  commit  their  little  ones  to  him  ;  and 
that  which  was  also  an  encouragement  to  them  so  to  do  was,  that  all 
this  was  to  be  at  the  charge  of  the  King,  and  so  was  as  an  hospital 
for  young  children  and  orphans. 

Now  they  went  on  ;  and  when  they  were  come  to  By-path 
Meadow,  to  the  stile  over  which  Christian  went  with  his  fellow 
Hopeful,  when  they  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair  and  put  into 
Doubting  Castle,  they  sat  down,  and  consulted  what  was  best  to  be 
done ;  to  wit,  now  they  were  so  strong,  and  had  got  such  a  man  as 
Mr.  Great-heart  for  their  conductor,  whether  they  had  not  best  to 
make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant,  demolish  his  castle,  and  if  there 
were  any  pilgrims  in  it,  to  set  them  at  liberty,  before  they  went  any 
farther.  So  one  said  one  thing,  and  another  said  the  contrary. 
One  questioned  if  it  were  lawful  to  go  upon  unconsecrated  ground ; 
another  said  they  might,  provided  their  end  was  good.     But  Mr. 


couples  who  have,  as  narrated  in  the  pre- 
ceding scenes,  being  married  in  the  Lord. 
Here,  then,  are  their  children  cared  for  and 
tended  by  the  loving  Lord  of  the  hill ;  and 
provision  is  made  both  to  "  feed  the  sheep  " 
and  to  "feed  the  lambs  "  of  the  flock.  "  So," 
says  Bunyan,  "  they  were  content  to  commit 
their  little  ones  to  him." 

By-path  Meadow  to  the  stile. — How  differ- 
ent are  the  thoughts  of  different  men  at  the 
same  point  of  the  Pilgrimage  !  We  recall  to 
mind  the  conversation  of  Christian    and 


Hopeful,  when,  in  the  moment  of  tempta- 
tion, they  sought  to  avoid  the  flints  of  the 
way  by  turning  aside  into  the  soft  meadow- 
path.  But  now  a  very  different  consultation 
is  being  held  at  this  same  stile ;  the  Pilgrims 
are  in  high  deliberation  not  only  how  to 
avoid  the  danger  for  themselves,  but  more 
especially  how  to  destroy  it  for  the  sake  of 
others.  The  former  Pilgrims  went  by  this 
stile  only  to  fall  into  the  grasp  of  the  Giant's 
power ;  these  Pilgrims  go  forth  from  this  stile 
to  lay  the  Giant  in  the  unyielding  grasp  o/ 


Doubting  Castle, 


403 


GREAT-HEART  AND  THE  SONS  OF  CHRISTIANA  DESTROY  DOUBTING  CASTLE. 

Great-heart  said,  Though  that  assertion  offered  last  cannot  be  uni- 
versally true,  yet  I  have  a  commandment  to  resist  sin,  to  overcome 
evil,  to  "  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith ; "  and,  I  pray,  with  whom 
should  I  fight  this  good  fight  if  not  with  Giant  Despair?  I  will 
therefore  attempt  the  taking  away  of  his  life,  and  the  demolishing 
of  Doubting  Casde.  Then  said  he.  Who  will  go  with  me  ?  Then 
said  old  Honest,  I  will.  And  so  will  we  too,  said  Christiana's  four 
sons,  Matthew,  Samuel,  James  and  Joseph;  for  they  were  young 
men  and  strong   (i  John  2:  13,  14). 


Death,  and  to  lay  his  castle  even  with  the 
ground. 

If  it  were  lawful  to  go. — The  propriety  of 
making  such  bold  ventures  on  the  enemy's 
ground  is  sometimes  questionable.  Some 
men  are  not  strong  enough  to  resist  Despair, 
much  less  would  they  be  strong  enough  to 
destroy  him.     It  is  dangerous  to  trifle  with 


so  bold  an  undertaking.  Unless  the  plain 
and  unmistakable  voice  of  duty  calls,  it  is 
better  to  pass  on.  The  physician  may  walk 
the  hospital ;  this  is  his  vocation  and  call- 
ing ;  but  if  you  desire  to  escape  infection,  it 
will  be  advisable  to  keep  aloof  from  danger. 
With  some,  yea,  with  many  Christians,  it 
would  only  be,  that  instead  of  overcoming 


404 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress, 


So  they  left  the  women  on  the  road,  and  with  them  Mr.  Feeble- 
mind,  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  with  his  crutches,  to  be  their  guard 
until  they  came  back ;  for  in  that  place,  though  Giant  Despair  dwelt 
so  near,  they  keeping  in  the  road,  "a  litde  child  might  lead  them" 
(Isa.  II :  6). 

So  Mr.  Great-heart,  old  Honest,  and  the  four  young  men,  went 
to  go  up  to  Doubting  Castle,  to  look  for  Giant  Despair.  When  they 
came  at  the  castle  gate,  they  knocked  for  entrance  with  an  unusual 
noise.  At  that  the  old  Giant  comes  to  the  gate,  and  Diffidence  his 
wife  follows.  Then  said  he.  Who  and  what  is  he  that  is  so  hardy  as 
after  this  manner  to  molest  the  Giant  Despair?  Mr.  Great-heart 
replied,  It  is  I,  Great-heart,  one  of  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country's 
conductors  of  pilgrims  to  their  place ;  and  I  demand  of  thee  that  thou 
open  thy  gates  for  my  entrance ;  prepare  thyself  also  to  fight,  for  I 
am  come  to  take  away  thy  head,  and  to  demolish  Doubting  Castle. 

Now  Giant  Despair,  because  he  was  a  giant,  thought  no  man 
could  overcome  him;  and  again,  thought  he,  since  heretofore  I  have 
made  a  conquest  of  angels,  shall  Great-heart  make  me  afraid  ?  So 
he  harnessed  himself  and  went  out ;  he  had  a  cap  of  steel  upon  his 
head,  a  breastplate  of  fire  girded  to  him,  and  he  came  out  in  iron 
shoes,  with  a  great  club  in  his  hand.  Then  these  six  men  made  up 
to  him,  and  beset  him  behind  and  before;  also  when  Diffidence,  the 
giantess,  came  up  to  help  him,  old  Mr.  Honest  cut  her  down  at  one 
blow.  Then  they  fought  for  their  lives,  and  Giant  Despair  was  brought 
down  to  the  ground,  but  was  very  loath  to  die.  He  struggled  hard, 
and  had,  as  they  say,  as  many  lives  as  a  cat ;  but  Great-heart  was  his 
death,  for  he  left  him  not  till  he  had  severed  his  head  from  his 
shoulders. 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting  Castle,  and  that,  you 
know,  might  with  ease  be  done,  since  Giant  Despair  was  dead.     They 


Despair,  they  would  themselves  be  destroyed 
of  the  destroyer. 

But  Great-heart  has  a  great  commis- 
sion to  fulfil,  and  has  strength  of  faith  com- 
mensurate with  his  calling.  He  can  boldly 
fight  this  good  fight ;  and  whosoever  goes 
forth  with  him,  depending  on  the  same 
strength,  will  also  overcome.  Accordingly, 
in  this  party  a  discrimination  is  made.  Only 
the  strong,  the  brave,  the  mighty  men  of 
valor  may  undertake  the  conflict ;  the  weak, 
the   feeble  minded,   the  faint-hearted   must 


stay  behind,  and  not  adventure  themselves 
into  so  perilous  a  strife. 

So  they  went  up. — It  is  easy  to  awake  the 
Giant,  and  easy  to  provoke  him  ;  but  he  must 
be  a  brave  man  that  can  go  up  against  him 
and  defy  him.  And  even  the  bravest  hero 
of  the  army  of  Christ  will  do  well  not  to 
assail  him  single-handed,  but  rather  in  com- 
pany. Despair  is  that  dark  foe  that  assaults 
men's  consciences,  and,  through  doubts  and 
fears,  brings  them  into  captivity.  Whoso, 
by   putting   forth   a   strong   hand,  destroys 


The  Pilgrims^  Merriment  at  the  Giant's  Death.  405 

were  seven  days  In  destroying  of  that ;  and  In  It,  of  pilgrims,  they  found 
one  Mr.  Despondency,  almost  starved  to  death,  and  one  Much-afraid, 
his  daughter;  these  two  they  saved  alive.  But  It  would  have  made 
you  wonder  to  have  seen  the  dead  bodies  that  lay  here  and  there  in 
the  castle-yard,  and  how  full  of  dead  men's  bones  the  dungeon  was. 

When  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  companions  had  performed  this 
'exploit,  they  took  Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter  Much-afraid 
into  their  protection;  for  they  were  honest  people,  though  they  were 
prisoners  in  Doubting  Castle  to  that  tyrant.  Giant  Despair.  They, 
therefore,  I  say,  took  with  them  the  head  of  the  Giant  (for  his  body 
they  had  buried  under  a  heap  of  stones),  and  down  to  the  road  and 
to  their  companions  they  came,  and  showed  them  what  they  had  done. 
Now,  when  Feeble-mind  and  Ready-to-halt  saw  that  it  was  the  head 
of  Giant  Despair  indeed,  they  were  very  jocund  and  merry.  Now 
Christiana,  if  need  was,  could  play  upon  the  viol,  and  her  daughter 
Mercy  upon  the  lute ;  so,  since  they  were  so  merrily  disposed,  she 
played  them  a  lesson,  and  Ready-to-halt  would  dance.  So  he  took 
Despondency's  daughter,  named  Much-afraid,  by  the  hand,  and  to 
dancing  they  went  in  the  road.  True,  he  could  not  dance  without 
one  crutch  in  his  hand  ;  but  I  promise  you  he  footed  it  well ;  also  the 
girl  was  to  be  commended,  for  she  answered  the  music  handsomely. 

As  for  Mr.  Despondency,  the  music  was  not  much  to  him;  he 
was  for  feeding  rather  than  dancing  ;  for  that  he  was  almost  starved. 
So  Christiana  gave  him  some  of  her  botde  of  spirits,  for  present 
relief,  and  then  prepared  him  something  to  eat ;  and  in  a  little  time 
the  old  gentleman  came  to  himself,  and  began  to  be  finely  revived. 

Now  I  saw  In  my  dream,  when  all  these  things  were  finished, 
Mr.  Great-heart  took  the  head  of  Giant  Despair,  and  set  it  upon  a 
pole  by  the  highway  side,  right  over  against  the  pillar  that  Christian 
erected  for  a  caution  to  pilgrims  that  came  after,  to  take  heed  of 
entering  into  his  grounds. 

Then  he  writ  under  It,  upon  a  marble  stone,  these  verses  following: 

This  is  the  head  of  him,  whose  name  only. 
In  former  times,  did  pilgrims  terrify. 
His  castle's  down,  and  Diffidence,  his  wife, 
Brave  Master  Great-heart  has  bereft  of  life. 
Despondency,  his  daughter  Much-afraid, 
Great-heart  for  them  also  the  man  has  play'd. 


Despair,  performs  a  deed  that  is  worthy  of 
everlasting  remembrance. 

And  in  the  destruction  of  this  great  Giant, 


souls  are  sure  to  be  delivered.  Many  have 
lain  in  his  dungeons  unrelieved  by  any  aid 
from  Christian  brethren ;    but   never   have 


406 


The  Pilgrim  s 


Progress. 


Who  hereof  doubts,  if  he'll  but  cast  his  eye 
Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy. 
This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance. 
Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  dehverance. 

Though  Doubting  Castle  be  demolished, 
And  Giant  Despair,  too,  has  lost  his  head. 
Sin  can  rebuild  the  castle,  make't  remain, 
And  make  Despair  the  Giant  live  again. 

When  these  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  themselves  against 
Doubting  Castle,  and  had  slain  Giant  Despair,  they  went  forward, 
and  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  where 
Christian  and  Hopeful  refreshed  themselves  with  the  varieties  of 
the  place.  They  also  acquainted  themselves  with  the  Shepherds 
there,  who  welcomed  them,  as  they  had  done  Christian  before,  unto 
the  Delectable  Mountains, 

Now  the  Shepherds  seeing  so  great  a  train  follow  Mr.  Great- 
heart  (for  with  him  they  were  well  acquainted),  they  said  unto  him, 
Good  sir,  you  have  got  a  goodly  company  here ;  pray  where  did 
you  find  all  these  ? 

Then  Mr.  Great-heart  replied: 

First,  here  is  Christiana  and  her  train. 
Her  sons,  and  her  sons'  wives,  who,  like  the  wain. 
Keep  by  the  pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer. 
From  sin  to  grace,  else  they  had  not  been  here. 
Next,  here's  old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage ; 
Ready-to-halt,  too,  who,  I  dare  engage. 
True-hearted  is,  and  so  is  Feeble-mind, 
Who  was  not  willing  to  be  left  behind. 
Despondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after, 
And  so  also  is  Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 
May  we  have  entertainments  here,  or  must 
We  farther  go  ?     Let's  know  whereon  to  trust. 

Then  said  the  Shepherds,  This  is  a  comfortable  company ;  you 
are  welcome  to  us,  for  we  have  for  the  feeble,  as  well  as  for  the  strong 


Christian  men  put  forth  a  faithful  effort  in 
this  direction  but  they  have  opened  the 
door  to  some  beleaguered  captive.  Chris- 
tian and  Hopeful,  it  is  true,  were  dehvered 
by  the  Key  of  Promise  from  within ;  but 
Despondency  and  Much-afraid  were  de- 
livered by  the  assault  ot  Great-heart  from 
without.  "There  are  vMversities  of  opera- 
tions." 


The  Delectable  Mountains. — All  that  has 
been  written  in  the  former  Allegory  respect- 
ing these  mountains  and  the  shepherds  that 
had  their  flocks  there,  is  fully  borne  out  by 
the  details  of  this  second  visit,  with  this 
additional  characteristic — that  they  receive 
and  welcome  the  weak  as  well  as  the  strong 
Like  the  Great  Shepherd,  so  do  these  under- 
shepherds  of  the  flock  :  they  carry  the  weak 


The  Pilgrifus  07i  the  Delectable  Mountains. 


407 


(Matt.  25  :  40);  our  Prince  has  an  eye  to  what  is  done  to  the  least 
of  these ;  therefore  infirmity  must  not  be  a  block  to  our  entertain- 
ment. So  they  had  them  to  the  palace  door,  and  then  said  unto 
them,  Come  in,  Mr.  Feeble-mind;  come  in,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt; 
come  in,  Mr.  Despondency,  and  Mrs.  Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 
These,  Mr.  Great-heart,  said  the  Shepherds  to  the  guide,  we  call  in 
by  name,  for  that  they  are  most  subject  to  draw  back ;  but  as  for 
you,  and  the  rest  that  are  strong,  we  leave  you  to  your  wonted  lib- 
erty. Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  This  clay  I  see  that  grace  doth 
shine  in  your  faces,  and  that  you  are  my  Lord's  shepherds  indeed ; 
for  that  you  have  not  pushed  these  diseased  neither  with  side  nor 
shoulder,  but  have  rather  strewed  their  way  into  the  palace  with 
flowers,  as  you  should  (Ezek.  34:  21). 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  and  the 
rest  did  follow.  When  they  were  also  set  down,  the  Shepherds  said 
to  those  of  the  weaker  sort,  What  is  it  that  you  would  have  ?  For, 
said  they,  all  things  must  be  managed  here  for  the  supporting  of  the 
weak,  as  well  as  the  warning  of  the  unruly. 

So  they  made  them  a  feast  of  things  easy  of  digestion,  and  that 
were  pleasant  to  the  palate,  and  nourishing ;  the  which,  when  they 
had  received,  they  went  to  their  rest,  each  one  respectively  unto  his 
proper  place.  When  morning  was  come,  because  the  mountains 
were  high  and  the  day  clear,  and  because  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
Shepherds  to  show  the  pilgrims,  before  their  departure,  some  rarities, 
therefore,  after  they  were  ready,  and  had  refreshed  themselves,  the 
Shepherds  took  them  out  into  the  fields,  and  showed  them  first  what 
they  had  shown  to  Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new  places.  The  first  was  Mount 
Marvel,  where  they  looked,  and  beheld  a  man  at  a  distance,  that 
tumbled  the  hills  about  with  words.  Then  they  asked  the  Shepherds 
what  that  should  mean  ?  So  they  told  them,  that  the  man  was  the  son 
of  one  Mr.  Great-grace  (of  whom  you  read  in  the  first  part  of  the 
records  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress),  and  he  is  set  down  there  to  teach 


ones  on  their  shoulders,  and  the  little  ones 
in  their  bosom.  Their  tidings  of  welcome, 
their  sympathizing  words,  their  soothing  in- 
vitations, are  for  the  tender  and  sensitive 
ones,  who,  but  for  this  kindly  dealing,  might 
not  have  sufficient  boldness  to  come.  These 
'lepherds  are  the  pastors  of  the  flock,  the 
•ninisters  of  the  Word. 


Mount  Marvel. — The  man  of  mighty  faith 
who  is  seen  from  hence  is  said  to  be  the  son 
of  Great-grace.  Worthy  son  of  such  a 
father !  Great-grace  had  power  to  nfifright 
the  thieves  and  to  disperse  the  bandits  of 
the  way.  Were  it  but  the  sound  of  his 
chariot  wheels,  or  the  prancing  of  his  horses' 
hoofs  that  is  heard  upon  the  road,  the  way 


408 


The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 


pilgrim  show  to  believe,  or  to  tumble  out  of  their  ways  what  difficul- 
ties they  should  meet  with  by  faith  (Mark  ii  :  23,  24).  Then  said 
Mr.  Great-heart,  I  know  him  ;  he  is  a  man  above  many. 

Then  they  had  them  to  another  place,  called  Mount  Innocence  ; 
and  there  they  saw  a  man  clothed  all  in  white;  and  two  men.  Preju- 
dice and  Ill-will,  continually  casting  dirt  upon  him.  Now,  behold,  the 
dirt,  whatsoever  they  cast  at  him,  would  in  a  little  time  fall  off  again, 
and  his  o-arment  would  look  as  clear  as  if  no  dirt  had  been  cast  thereat. 
Then  said  the  Pilgrims,  What  means  this  ?  The  Shepherds  answered, 
This  man  is  named  Godly-man,  and  this  garment  is  to  show  the  in- 
nocency  of  his  life.  Now,  those  that  throw  dirt  at  him  are  such  as 
hate  his  well-doing  ;  but,  as  you  see,  the  dirt  will  not  stick  upon  his 
clothes;  so  it  shall  be  with  him  that  liveth  innocently  in  the  world. 
Whoever  they  be  that  would  make  such  men  dirty,  they  labor  all  in 
vain  ;  for  God,  by  that  a  little  time  is  spent,  will  cause  that  their  in- 
nocence shall  break  forth  as  the  light,  and  their  righteousness  as  the 
noonday. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  Mount  Charity,  where 
they  showed  them  a  man  that  had  a  bundle  of  cloth  lying  before  him, 
out  of  which  he  cut  coats  and  garments  for  the  poor  that  stood  about 
him  ;  yet  his  bundle  or  roll  of  cloth  was  never  the  less.  Then  sai^ 
they.  What  should  this  be  ?  This  is,  said  the  Shepherds,  to  show  you, 
that  he  who  has  a  heart  to  give  of  his  labor  to  the  poor  shall  never 
want  wherewithal.  "He  that  watereth  shall  be  watered  himself." 
And  the  cake  that  the  widow  gave  to  the  prophet  did  not  cause  that 
she  had  the  less  in  her  barrel. 

They  had  them  also  to  a  place  where  they  saw  one  Fool  and  one 
Want-wit  washing  an  Ethiopian,  with  an  intention  to  make  him  white ; 
but  the  more  they  washed  him,  the  blacker  he  was.  Then  they  asked 
the  Shepherds  what  this  should  mean  ?  So  they  told  them,  saying, 
Thus  it  is  with  the  vile  person  ;   all  means  used  to  get  such  a  one  a 


is  cleared,  for  Great-grace  is  at  hand. 
And  if  the  father  could  disperse  robbers,  the 
son  can  remove  mountains.  Here  the 
power  of  living  faith  is  magnified  and  made 
honorable. 

Mount  Imiocence. — "  To  keep  himself  un- 
spotted from  the  world  "  is  one  of  the  marks 
of  the  man  who  is  possessed  of  true  and  un- 
defiled  religion  (James  i  :  27).  Pure  inno- 
cence, unless  it  contaminate  itself,  cannot  be 
defiled.     The  mire  of  the  streets  clings  not 


to  the  robe  of  innocence.  If  ever  it  lose  its 
lustre  or  defile  its  purity,  it  is  its  own  fault, 
by  walking  in  unclean  places  and  contract- 
ing guilt. 

Mount  Charity. — True  charity  "  never 
faileth."  It  is  that  which  ever  gives,  and 
ever  receives  and  never  exhausts  its  supply. 
It  is  a  perennial  stream,  watering  others,  and 
itself  continually  supplied  from  above.  It 
is  as  the  widow's  cruise  of  oil — its  last  rem- 
nant  granted   to    the  prophet   becomes   a 


The  Looking-glass. 


409 


good  name  shall  in  conclusion  tend  but  to  make  him  more  abom- 
inable. Thus  it  was  with  the  Pharisees,  and  so  it  shall  be  with  all 
hypocrites. 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Christiana  her  mother, 
Mother,  I  would,  if  it  might  be,  see  the  hole  in  the  hill,  or  that  com- 
monly called  the  By-way  to  Hell.  So  her  mother  brake  her  mind  to 
the  Shepherds.  Then  they  went  to  the  door  (it  was  on  the  side  of  a 
hill),  and  they  opened  it,  and  bid  Mercy  hearken  a  while.  So  she 
hearkened,  and  heard  one  saying,  Cursed  be  my  father  for  holding 
of  my  feet  back  from  the  way  of  peace  and  life  !  Another  said,  Oh, 
that  I  had  been  torn  in  pieces,  before  I  had,  to  save  my  life,  lost  my 
soul !  And  another  said,  If  I  were  to  live  again,  how  would  I  deny 
myself  rather  than  come  to  this  place !  Then  there  was  as  if  the  very 
earth  groaned  and  quaked  under  the  feet  of  this  young  woman  for 
fear.  So  she  looked  white,  and  came  trembling  away,  saying,  Blessed 
be  he  and  she  that  are  delivered  from  this  place  ! 

Now,  when  the  Shepherds  had  shown  them  all  these  things,  then 
they  had  them  back  to  the  palace,  and  entertained  them  with  what 
the  house  would  afford.  But  Mercy,  being  a  young  and  married 
woman,  longed  for  something  that  she  saw  there,  but  was  ashamed 
to  ask.  Her  mother-in-law  then  asked  her  what  she  ailed,  for  she 
looked  as  one  not  well.  Then  said  Mercy,  There  is  a  looking-glass 
hangs  up  in  the  dining-room,  off  which  I  cannot  take  my  mind  ;  if, 
therefore,  I  have  it  not,  I  think  I  shall  miscarry.  Then  said  her 
mother,  I  will  mention  thy  wants  to  the  Shepherds,  and  they  will  not 
deny  it  thee.  But  she  said,  I  am  ashamed  that  these  men  should 
know  that  I  longed.  Nay,  my  daughter,  said  she,  it  is  no  shame,  but 
a  virtue,  to  long  for  such  a  thing  as  that.  So  Mercy  said.  Then, 
mother,  if  you  please,  ask  the  Shepherds  if  they  are  willing  to  sell  it. 

Now  the  glass  v/as  one  of  a  thousand.     It  would  present  a  man, 


never-failing  supply,  increased  by  the  pro- 
phet's Lord. 

Fool  attd  one  Want-wit. — External 
washings  take  no  effect  upon  the  inward 
corruption,  but  to  make  it  more  corrupt,  add- 
ing the  sin  of  hypocrisy  to  other  sins.  The 
Pharisees  were  accounted  more  sinful  than 
others,  because  they  were  more  pretentious 
and  boastful  (Matt.  5  :  20;  Luke  18  :    14). 

Mercy  and  thr  looking-glass. — This  is  one 
of  the  most  instructive  of  the  emblems  of  the 
present  stage.     Mercy  longs  for   a  certain 


looking-glass  ;  her  desire  is  satisfied,  and 
she  discovers  the  pecuhar  character  and 
power  of  this  mirror.  In  it  a  man  may  first 
see  himself,  and  afterwards  may  see  the 
Saviour.  This  is  a  very  beautiful  allusion 
to  two  very  remarkable  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture— James  i  :  23-25,  and  2  Cor.  3:   18. 

This  mirror  is  the  Word  of  God.  Th( 
Bible  is  the  Christian's  looking-glass,  iiv 
which  he  is  to  see,  and  read,  and  observe, 
and  know  himself.  It  is  a  \r^«  mirror, 
and  presents  us  to  ourselves  is   we  really 


410 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


THE  SHEPHERDS  ADORN  THE  PILGRIMS. 

one  way,  with  his  own  features  exactly;  and  turn  it  but  another  way, 
and  it  would  show  one  the  very  face  and  similitude  of  the  Prince  of 
Pilgrims  himself  Yes,  I  have  talked  with  them  that  can  tell,  and 
they  have  said  that  they  have  seen  the  very  crown  of  thorns  upon  his 
head  by  looking  in  that  glass  ;  they  have  therein  also  seen  the  holes 
in  his  hands,  in  his  feet,  and  his  side.  Yea,  such  an  excellence  is 
there  in  that  glass,  that  it  will  show  him  to  one  where  they  have  a 
mind  to  see  him,  whether  living  or  dead ;  whether  in  earth  or  in  hea- 


are.  It  speaks  the  truth  and  flatters  not. 
A  blessing  is  pronounced  upon  the  man 
that  looks  therein  and  "continues"  to 
look  (James  i  :  25).  What  is  this  "bless- 
ing "  thus  promised  to  him  that  contin- 
ues to  behold  himself  in  the  mirror  of 
God's  Word  ?  It  is  this  :  that  he  will  behold 
two  visions — (i)  he  sees  the  sinner  in  him- 
self, what  he  is  ;  and  (2),  he  sees  the  sinner 


in  Christ,  what  he  may  become.  Only 
"  continue  "  in  the  study  of  this  true  mirror; 
for  never  yet  did  a  man  lead  the  Ilible  long 
without  being  rewarded  with  the  view  of 
Christ  his  Saviour.  There  is  more  about 
Christ  in  the  Bible  than  about  yourself;  and 
the  next  thing  to  the  view  of  the  degradation 
of  the  sinner  is  the  view  of  the  glory  of  tb«» 
Saviour. 


The  Looking-glass. 


411 


ven ;  whether  in  a  state  of  humihation  or  in  his  exaltation  ;  whether 
coming  to  suffer  or  coming  to  reign  (James  i:  23-25;  i  Cor.  13:  12; 
2  Cor.  3:  18). 

Christiana  therefore  went  to  the  Shepherds  apart  (now  the 
names  of  the  Shepherds  were  Knowledge,  Experience,  Watchful, 
and  Sincere),  and  said  unto  them,  There  is  one  of  my  daughters,  a 
married  woman,  that,  I  think,  doth  long  for  something  that  she  hath 
seen  in  this  house,  and  she  thinks  she  shall  miscarry  if  she  should 
by  you  be  denied. 

Exp.  Call  her,  call  her  ;  she  shall  assuredly  have  what  we  can 
help  her  to.  So  they  called  her,  and  said  to  her,  Mercy,  what  is 
that  thing  thou  wouldest  have?  Then  she  blushed,  and  said.  The 
great  glass  that  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room.  So  Sincere  ran  and 
fetched  it,  and  with  a  joyful  consent  it  was  given  her.  Then  she 
bowed  her  head,  and  gave  thanks,  and  said,  By  this  I  know  that  I 
have  obtained  favor  in  your  eyes. 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such  things  as  tlr 
desired,  and  to  their  husbands  great  commendations,  for  that  the^ 
had  joined  with  Mr.  Great-heart  in  the  slaying  of  Giant  DespaL, 
and  the  demolishing  of  Doubting  Castle.  About  Christiana's  neck 
the  Shepherds  put  a  bracelet,  and  so  they  did  about  the  necks  of  her 
four  daughters  ;  also  they  put  earrings  in  their  ears,  and  jewels  on 
their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence,  they  let  them  go  in 
peace,  but  gave  not  to  them  those  cautions  which  before  were  given 
to  Christian  and  his  companion.  The  reason  was,  for  that  these 
had  Great-heart  to  be  their  guide,  who  was  one  that  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  things,  and  so  could  give  them  their  cautions  more 
seasonably  ;  to  wit,  even  then  when  the  danger  was  nigh  the  ap- 
proaching.    What  cautions  Christian  and  his   companion  had   re- 


This  is  the  spiritual  dissolving  view  which 
is  thus  presented  in  the  Christian  mirror — 
"  But  we  all,  with  open  face  beholding  as  m 
a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed 
into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory, 
even  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  "  (2  Cor. 
3:  18).  We  remember  Hopeful's  earnest 
prayer:  "Father,  reveal  thy  Son!''  And 
in  the  conversation  on  the  Enchanted 
Ground,  this  good  man  thus  remarks : 
•'  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the  natural 
apprehension  of  the  flesh,  that  he  cannot  by 


any  man  be  savingly  known,  unless  God 
the  Father  reveals  Him  to  him."  And  in 
the  mirror  of  the  Word,  "  the  law  of  liberty," 
he  is  revealed. 

Thus  (i)  "the  Christian's  looking-glass," 
as  a  law  of  bondage,  reveals  us  to  ourselves 
in  all  our  sin,  defilement,  and  corruption  ; 
and  then  (2)  as  "  the  law  of  hberty,"  the 
view  of  self  is  "  changed"  into  the  likeness 
of  the  Saviour. 

In  the  next  chapter  we  shall  see  the  con- 
sequences of  sin  in  the  admonitory  details 


412 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


ceived  of  the  Shepherds,  they  had  also  lost  by  that  the  time  was  come 
that  they  had   need  to  put  them  in  practice.     Wherefore  here  was 
the  advantage  that  this  company  had  over  the  other. 
From  hence  they  went  on  singing,  and  they  said : 

Behold,  how  fitly  are  the  stages  set 

For  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are  become  ; 
I  And  how  they  receive  us  without  one  let, 

.  That  make  the  other  life  our  mark  and  home ! 

What  novelties  they  have,  to  us  they  give, 
That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live ; 
They  do  upon  us,  too,  such  things  bestow. 
That  show  we  pilgrims  are  where'er  we  go. 


given  us  respecting  the  character  of  "  Turn- 
away."  Once  his  face  was  Zionward  ;  but 
he  turned  back,  and  would  walk  no  more  in 
the  way.  Tired  of  toiling  up  the  steep  as- 
cent, he  suddenly  resigned  himself  to  the 
downward  path.  He  now  began  to  hate  the 
things  he  once  did  love.    The  sight  of  the 


most  affecting  scenes  of  the  Saviour's  love 
only  tended  the  more  to  embitter  his  soul, 
and  to  renew  his  desperate  resolution. 
Ministers  of  the  Word  would  reason  with 
him,  and  pray  with  him,  and  lay  their  sym- 
pathizing hands  upon  him  ;  but  all  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Mr.  Valiant-for-truth. 

Christian  valor,  influenced  and  impelled  by  Christian  doctrine,  is  the  principle  in. 
culcated  in  the  person  of  Valiant-for-truth,  whose  strife  and  conflict,  consistency  and 
faith  are  here  set  forth  as  an  illustration  of  the  power  of  Divine  grace,  and  as  an  example 
to  all  who,  receiving  like  faith  and  precious  promises,  would  fight  the  good  fight,  endure  to 
the  end,  and  finish  their  course  with  joy. 

HEN  they  were  gone  from  the  shepherds,  they  quickly 
came  to  the  place  where  Christian  met  with  one  Turn- 
away,  that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostasy.  Wherefore 
of  him  Mr.  Great-heart,  their  guide,  did  now  put  them 
in  mind,  saying,  This  is  the  place  where  Christian  met 
with  one  Turn-away,  who  carried  with  him  the  character  of  his  re- 
bellion at  his  back.  And  this  I  have  to  say  concerning  this  man  ;  he 
would  harken  to  no  counsel,  but,  once  a  falling,  persuasion  could  not 
stop  him.  When  he  came  to  the  place  where  the  cross  and  the 
sepulchre  were,  he  did  meet  with  one  that  bid  him  look  there ;  but 
he  gnashed  with  his  teeth,  and  stamped,  and  said  he  was  resolved  to 
go  back  to  his  own  town.  Before  he  came  to  the  gate,  he  met  with 
Evangelist,  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him  to  turn  him  into  the  way 
again ;  but  this  Turn-away  resisted  him,  and  having  done  much  de- 
spite unto  him,  he  got  away  over  the  wall,  and  so  escaped  his  hand. 
Then  they  went  on  ;  and,  just  at  the  place  where  Little-faith  for- 
merly was  robbed,  there  stood  a  man  with  his  sword  drawn,  and  his 
face  all  covered  with  blood.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  Who  art 
thou  ?  The  man  made  answer,  saying,  I  am  one  whose  name  is 
Valiant-for-truth.    I  am  a  pilgrim,  and  am  going  to  the  Celestial  City. 


Valiant  for-truth. — The  hero  of  this  scene 
of  the  Progress  is  now  presented  to  our 
view  in  the  person  of  this  bold  and  steadfast 
man.  This  point  of  the  road  is  dangerous, 
haunted  by  robbers  and  bandits.  Here 
Little-faith  had  suffered  loss.  But  now 
a  braver  and  more  valiant  Pilgrim  is  encoun- 
tered, who  knows  his  strength  and  the  source 
of  his  strength.     He  has  fought  a  lengthened 


conflict,  and,  his  assailants  being  put  to 
flight,  he  is  found  by  Great-heart  stand- 
ing in  the  roadway,  sword  in  hand,  with  the 
marks  of  sore  combat — wounds  and  blood. 
From  the  names  given  to  these  assailants, 
it  would  appear  that  this  assault  was  not  of 
the  same  character  as  that  of  Little-faith. 
The  Pilgrim  of  the  former  narrative  had  en- 
countered spiritual  enemies  from  within— 


(413) 


414 


The  Pilgriin  s  Progress. 


Now,  as  I  was  in  my  way,  there  were  three  men  that  did  beset  me, 
and  propounded  unto  me  these  three  things:  Whether  I  would  be 
one  of  them  ?  or  go  back  from  whence  I  came  ?  or  die  upon  the 
place  ?  To  the  first  I  answered,  I  had  been  a  true  man  a  long  season, 
and  therefore  it  could  not  be  expected  that  I  now  should  cast  in  my 
lot  with  thieves  (Prov.  i  :  10-19).  Then  they  demanded  what  I 
would  say  to  the  second.  So  1  told  them.  The  place  from  whence  I 
came,  had  I  not  found  incommodity  there,  I  had  not  forsaken  it  at  all ; 
but,  finding  it  altogether  unsuitable  to  me,  I  forsook  it  for  this  way. 
Then  they  asked  me  what  I  said  to  the  third?  And  I  told  them,  My 
life  cost  far  more  dear  than  that  I  should  lightly  give  it  away.  Be- 
sides, you  have  nothing  to  do  thus  to  put  things  to  my  choice  ;  where- 
fore at  your  peril  be  it  if  you  meddle.  Then  these  three,  to  wit, 
Wild-head,  Inconsiderate  and  Pragmatic,  drew  upon  me,  and  I  also 
drew  upon  them.  So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the  space  of 
above  three  hours.  They  have  left  upon  me,  as  you  see,  some  of  the 
marks  of  their  valor,  and  have  also  carried  away  with  them  some  of 
mine.  They  are  but  just  now  gone  ;  I  suppose  they  might,  as  the 
saying  is,  hear  your  horse  dash,  and  so  they  betook  themselves  to 
flight. 

Great.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one, 
Val.  It  is  true  ;  but  little  or  more  are  nothing  to  him  that  has 
the  truth  on  his  side.  "Though  an  host  should  encamp  against  me," 
said  one, ''my  heart  shall  not  fear;  though  war  should  rise  against 
me,  in  this  will  I  be  confident."  Besides,  said  he,  I  have  read  in 
some  records,  that  one  man  has  fought  an  army ;  and  how  many  did 
Samson  slay  with  the  jawbone  of  an  ass  ! 

Then  said  the  guide,  Why  did  you  not  cry  out,  that  some  might 
have  come  in  for  your  succor  ? 


Faint-heart,  Mistrust,  and  Guilt  ;  while 
this  Pilgrim  seems  to  have  been  assailed  by 
carnal  enemies  from  without,  as  indicated  by 
their  names — Wild-head,  Inconsiderate, 
and  Pragmatic.  Mr.  Scott  observes  :  "  The 
author  meant  to  represent  by  them  certain 
wild  enthusiasts  who,  not  having  ever  duly 
considered  any  religious  subject,  ojfficiotisly 
intrude  themselves  in  the  way  of  professors, 
to  perplex  their  minds  and  persuade  them 
that,  unless  they  adopt  their  reveries  or 
superstitions,  they  cannot  be  saved." 

The  conflict,  hov.'ever,  was  a  severe  one. 


It  was  fought  against  great  odds  (humanly 
speaking),  and  victory  inclined  to  the  side 
of  faith  and  truth,  (i)  He  fought  in  the 
strength  of  his  King,  whom  he  implored  to 
send  him  aid  and  succor.  (2)  He  fought 
with  the  proper  weapon,  the  true-tempered 
sword  of  the  Spirit,  quick,  and  sharper  than 
any  two-edged  sword.  (3)  And  he  wielded 
this  sword  with  skill  and  constancy.  Hence 
his  undoubted  victory.  He  now  joins  the 
Pilgrim-company,  and  forms  another  addi- 
tion to  the  group — an  addition,  too,  that 
promises  to  make  the  band  more  strong  and 


Xfi 


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l-l 


416  The  Pitgrim's  Progress, 

Val.  So  I  did,  to  my  King,  who  I  knew  could  hear  me,  and 
afford  invisible  help ;  and  that  was  enough  for  me. 

Then  said  Great-heart  to  Mr.  Valiant- for-truth,  Thou  hast 
worthily  behaved  thyself ;  let  me  see  thy  sword.  So  he  showed  it 
him.  When  he  had  taken  it  into  his  hand,  and  looked  thereon 
a  while,  he  said.  Ha !  it  is  a  right  Jerusalem  blade. 

Val.  It  is  so.  Let  a  man  have  one  of  these  blades,  with  a 
hand  to  wield  it,  and  skill  to  use  it,  and  he  may  venture  upon  an 
angel  with  it.  He  need  not  fear  its  holding  if  he  can  but  tell  how  to 
lay  on.  Its  edge  will  never  blunt.  It  will  cut  flesh  and  bones,  and 
soul  and  spirit,  and  all. 

Great.  But  you  fought  a  great  while ;  I  wonder  you  was  not 
weary. 

Val.  I  fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my  hand;  and  then 
they  were  joined  together,  as  if  a  sword  grew  out  of  my  arm  ;  and 
when  the  blood  ran  through  my  fingers,  then  I  fought  with  most 
courage. 

Great.  Thou  hast  done  well ;  thou  hast  "  resisted  unto  blood, 
striving  against  sin ; "  thou  shalt  abide  by  us  ;  come  in  and  go  out 
with  us,  for  we  are  thy  companions. 

Then  they  took  him,  and  washed  his  wounds,  and  gave  him  of 
what  they  had  to  refresh  him  ;  and  so  they  went  together.  Now,  as 
they  went  on,  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  delighted  in  him  (for  he 
loved  one  greatly  that  he  found  to  be  a  man  of  his  hands),  and  be- 
cause there  were  in  company  them  that  were  feeble  and  weak,  there- 
fore he  questioned  with  him  about  many  things  ;  as,  first,  what  coun- 
tryman he  was  ? 

Val.  I  am  of  Dark-land  ;  for  there  I  was  born,  and  there  my 
father  and  mother  are  still. 

Dark-land  !  said  the  guide  ;  doth  not  that  lie  on  the  same  coast 
with  the  City  of  Destruction  ? 


steadfast  to  bear  the  concluding  stages  of 
the  journey. 

He  qtiestioncd  with  him. — The  narrative 
of  this  man,  as  ehcited  in  course  of  conver- 
sation, reveals  a  remarkable  ordeal  of  Chris- 
tian consistency  in  running  the  race.  He 
had  come  out  of  darkness — Dark-land  was 
his  native  home.  Into  this  dark  place  the 
Ught  had  shone  in  the  visit  of  Tell-true. 
Here  is  the  message  of  God,  by  the  hand  of 
one  of  his  servants,  pouring  a  flood  of  light 


upon  at  least  one  dark  heart.     The  experi- 
ences of  Christian  and  his  pilgrimage  were     1 
the  means  of  attracting  the  man's  affections      : 
towards  the  Narrow-way.     Thus  the  spiritual 
biography    of  one   man    may    become   the 
prolific  seed  of  many  new-born  souls.     This 
citizen  of  Dark-land  received  the  light  and 
believed  the  tidings ;  for  both  light  and  tid       ; 
ings  were  revealed  by  Tell-true. 

And  now,  see  the  ordeal  of  test  and  trial 
through  which  this  newly  enlightened  con- 


STAND-FAST   AND   MADAME   BUBBLE. 


TURN-AWA^-  ^AMLL   NOT   LISTEN  TO   EVANGELIST. 


Valiantfor4ruth  tells  the  Cause  of  his  (conversion.  417 

Val.  Yes,  it  doth.  Now  that  which  caused  me  to  come  on 
pilgrimage,  was  this:  we  had  one  Mr.  Tell-true  come  into  our  parts, 
and  he  told  it  about  what  Christian  had  done,  that  went  from  the  City 
of  Destruction  ;  namely,  how  he  had  forsaken  his  wife  and  children, 
and  had  betaken  himself  to  a  pilgrim's  life.  It  was  also  confidently 
reported,  how  he  did  kill  a  serpent  that  did  come  out  to  resist  him 
in  his  journey,  and  how  he  got  through  to  whither  he  intended.  It 
was  also  told  what  welcome  he  had  at  all  his  Lord's  lodgings,  espe- 
cially when  he  came  to  the  gates  of  the  Celestial  City  ;  for  there,  said 
the  man,  he  was  received  with  sound  of  trumpet  by  a  company  of 
shining  ones.  He  told  also  how  all  the  bells  of  the  city  did  ring 
for  joy  at  his  reception,  and  what  golden  garments  he  was  clothed 
with,  with  many  other  things  that  now  I  shall  forbear  to  relate.  In 
a  word,  that  man  so  told  the  story  of  Christian  and  his  travels,  that 
my  heart  fell  into  a  burning  haste  to  be  gone  after  him ;  nor  could 
father  or  mother  stay  me.  So  I  got  from  them  and  am  come  thus 
far  on  my  way. 

Great.    You  came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not  ? 

Val.  Yes,  yes;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us,  that  all  would 
be  nothing,  if  we  did  not  begin  to  enter  this  way  at  the  gate. 

Look  you,  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  the  pilgrimage  of  your 
husband,  and  what  he  has  gotten  thereby,  is  spread  abroad  far  and 
near. 

Val.    Why,  is  this  Christian's  wife  ? 

Great.    Yes,  that  it  is;  and  these  also  are  his  four  sons. 

Val.    What !  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too  ? 

Great.    Yes,  verily,  they  are  following  after. 

Val.  It  glads  me  at  the  heart.  Good  man,  how  joyful  will  he 
be  when  he  shall  see  them,  that  would  not  go  with  him,  yet  to  enter 
after  him  in  at  the  gates  into  the  Celestial  City  ! 

Great.  Without  doubt  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  him  ;  for,  next  to 
the  joy  of  seeing  himself  there,  it  will  be  a  joy  to  meet  there  his  wife 
and  children. 

Val.  Bu«t,  now  you  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me  hear  your 
opinion  about  it.  Some  make  a  question  whether  we  shall  know  one 
another  when  we  are  there. 


vert  is  called  to  pass.  He  alone  has  received 
the  light;  all  else  is  dark  in  Dark-land. 
Even  within  his  own  home  he  meets,  not 
with  sympathy,  but  with  opposition — all  the 

87 


harder  to  resist,  seeing  it  proceeded  from 
those  whom  he  was  bound  to  obey  in  all 
necessary  matters  of  filial  duty. 

Here  the  conflict  begins — with  hints  and 


418 


The  Pilgrim's  Progresif 


Great.  Do  they  think  they  shall  kncA'  tneri'iselves  then,  or  that 
they  shall  rejoice  to  see  themselves  in  that  bli^s?  and,  if  they  think 
they  shall  know  and  do  these,  why  not  know  others,  and  rejoice  in 
their  welfare  also  ?  Again,  since  relations  are  our  second  self,  thouo^h 
that  state  will  be  dissolved  there,  yet  why  may  it  not  be  rationally 
concluded  that  we  shall  be  more  glad  to  see  them  there,  than  to  see 
they  are  wanting? 

Val.  Well,  I  perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as  to  this.  Have 
you  any  more  things  to  ask  me  about  my  beginning  to  come  on 
pilgrimage? 

Great.  Yes  ;  were  your  father'  and  mother  willing  that  you 
should  become  a  pilgrim  ? 

Val.  Oh,  no !  they  used  all  means  imaginable  to  persuade  me 
to  stay  at  home 

Great.    Why,  what  could  they  say  against  it? 

Val.  They  said  it  was  an  idle  life ;  and,  if  I  myself  were  not 
inclined  to  slo^-h  and  laziness,  I  should  never  countenance  a  pilgrim's 
condition. 

Great.    And  what  did  they  say  else? 

Val.  Why,  they  told  me  that  it  was  a  dangerous  way;  yea.  tha 
most  dange»^ous  way  in  the  world,  said  they,  is  that  which  the 
pilgrims  go. 

Great.    Did  they  show  you  wherein  this  way  is  so  dangerous  ? 

Val.    Yes;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 

Great.    Name  some  of  them, 

Val.  They  told  me  of  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where  Christian 
was  well-nigh  smothered.  They  told  me  that  there  were  archers 
standing  ready  in  Beelzebub-castle  to  shoot  them  who  should  knock 
at  the  Wicket-gate  for  entrance.  They  told  me  also  of  the  wood  and 
dark  mouni"ains,  of  the  hill  1  )ifficulty,  of  the  lions  ;  and  also  of  the 
three  giants,  Bloody-man,  Maul  and  Slay-good.  They  said,  more- 
over, that  there  was  a  foul  fiend  haunted  the  Valley  of  Humiliation  ; 
and  that  Christian  was  by  him  almost  bereft  of  life.  Besides,  said 
they,  you  must  go  over  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  wher( 


inuendos,  with  nasrepresentations  of  the 
path,  and  exaggerations  of  its  danger,  and 
with  all  sorts  of  objections — the  result  of 
either  ignorance  or  prejudice  or  malice — 
in  order,  if  possible,  to  deter  the  young  man 
from  undertaking  the  pilgrimage.  The  most 
is  made  of  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  and 


stress  is  laid  upon  the  misadventures  of  false 
pilgrims.  The  lions  and  giants,  of  course, 
form  a  frightful  scene  in  their  picture,  and 
the  darkness  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  is 
spoken  of  as  though  the  inhabitants  of  Dark- 
land  had  never  seen  anything  but  light ! 
Not   content  with  exaggerating   the   actual 


Dangers  of  the  Way. 


VALIANT  RESISTS  THE  ENTREATIES  OF  HIS  FATHER  AND  MOTHER. 

the  hobgoblins  are,  where  the  Hght  is  darkness,  where  the  way  is  full 
of  snares,  pits,  traps  and  gins.  They  told  me  also  of  Giant  Despair, 
of  Doubting  Casde,  and  of  the  ruin  that  the  pilgrims  had  met  with 
there  Further,  they  said,  I  must  go  over  the  Enchanted  Ground, 
which  was  dangerous  ;  and  that  after  all  this,  I  should  find  a  river 
over  which  there  was  no  bridge  ;  and  that  that  river  did  lie  betwixt 
me  and  the  Celestial  Country. 

Great.    And  was  this  all? 

Val.  No  ;  they  also  told  me  that  this  way  was  full  of  deceivers, 
and  of  persons  that  lay  in  wait  there  to  turn  good  men  out  of  the 
path. 


dangers,  they  proceed  to  falsify  the  true  ex- 
periences of  the  way.  They  overlook  Chris- 
tian's triumphs;  indeed,  they  report  them 
as  sad  reverses ;  and  thus  they  combined 
to  bring  up  an  evil  report  of  the  land. 


And  is  this  foreign  to  our  own  experience 
of  the  way  of  the  world  and  worldly  men  in 
their  dealing  with  the  cause  of  religion  ?  Dc 
they  not  accuse  that  way  wrongfully,  and  lay 
to  its*  charge  things  that  belong  not  to  it  "i 


420 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Great.    But  how  did  they  make  that  out? 

Val.  They  told  me  that  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman  did  he  there  in 
wait  to  deceive.  They  said  also  that  there  were  Formahty  and  Hy- 
pocrisy continually  on  the  road.  They  said  also  that  By  ends,  Talk- 
ative, or  Demas  would  go  near  to  gather  me  up  ;  that  the  Flatterer 
would  catch  me  in  his  net ;  or  that,  with  green-headed  Ignorance.  I 
would  presume  to  go  on  to  the  gate,  from  whence  he  was  sent  back 
to  the  hole  that  was  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  made  to  go  the  by- 
way to  hell. 

Great.  1  promise  you  this  was  enough  to  discourage  you.  But 
did  they  make  an  end  there  ? 

Val.  No;  stay.  They  told  me  also  of  many  that  had  tried  that 
way  of  old,  and  that  had  gone  a  great  way  therein,  to  see  if  they 
could  find  something  of  the  glory  there  that  so  many  had  so  much 
talked  of  from  dme  to  time ;  and  how  they  came  back  again,  and 
befooled  themselves  for  setdng  a  foot  out  of  doors  in  that  path  to  the 
sadsfaction  of  all  the  country.  And  they  named  several  that  did  so, 
as  Obstinate  and  Pliable,  Mistrust  and  Timorous,  Turn-away  and  old 
Atheist,  with  several  more ;  who,  they  said,  had  some  of  them  gone 
far  to  see  what  they  could  find ;  but  not  one  of  them  had  found  so 
much  advantage  by  going  as  amounted  to  the  weight  of  a  feather. 

Great.    Said  they  anything  more  to  discourage  you  ? 

Val.  Yes  ;  they  told  me  of  one  Mr.  Fearing,  who  was  a  pilgrim  ; 
and  how  he  found  his  way  so  solitary  that  he  never  had  a  comfort- 
able hour  therein  ;  also  that  Mr.  Despondency  had  like  to  have  been 
starved  therein  ;  yea,  and  also  (which  I  had  almost  forgot)  that  Chris- 
tian himself,  about  whom  there  had  been  such  a  noise,  after  all  his 
ventures  for  a  celesdal  crown,  was  certainly  drowned  in  the  black 
river,  and  never  went  a  foot  further,  however  it  was   smothered  up. 


The  profession  of  religion  involves  trouble 
and  loss ;  the  profession  of  religion  calls  for 
self-denial  and  the  bearing  of  many  a  cross. 
Well,  instantly  the  way  is  spoken  against, 
and  young  believers  are  discouraged.  Or 
professors  fail  and  turn  aside ;  unworthy 
pilgrims  intrude  upon  the  King's  highway, 
and  come  to  an  ill  end.  All  this  is  laid  to 
the  account  of  true  religion  ;  and  the  world 
seeks  to  scandalize  the  faith  for  the  fault  of 
its  professors.  Such  were  the  hindrances 
which  obstructed  the  pilgrimage  of  Mr. 
Valiant-for-truth. 


/  believed  Tell-true. — This  was  the  secret 
of  his  confidence  and  constancy.  Men  told 
him  of  drawbacks  and  downfalls  and  pits 
and  snares  and  lions  and  giants  and  dun- 
geons and  dark  rivers  and  death-pains ; 
but  none  of  these  things  moved  him  He 
had  heard  from  the  lips  of  Tell-true  that 
Christian  forsook  all  and  followed  Christ, 
and,  through  the  trials  and  crosses  of  the 
homeward  journey,  he  reached  Home  at  last. 
He  belic7>ed  this;  his  faith  impelled  him  to 
the  pilgrimage,  and  hitherto  had  the  Lord 
helped  him. 


Valiant's  Belief  in  Tell-true. 


421 


Great.    And  did  none  of  diese  things  discourage  you? 

Val.    No  ;  diey  seemed  but  so  many  nothings  to  me. 

Great.    How  came  that  about  ? 

Val.  Why,  I  sdll  beheved  what  Mr.  Tell-true  had  said,  and  that 
carried  me  beyond  them  all. 

Great.    Then,  ''this  was  your  victory,  even  your  faith?" 

Val.  It  was  so  ;  I  believed,  and  therefore  came  out,  got  into  the 
way,  fought  all  that  set  themselves  against  me,  and,  by  believing,  am 
come  to  this  place. 


Who  would  true  valor  see, 

Let  him  come  hither ; 
One  here  will  constant  be, 

Come  wind,  come  weather; 
There's  no  discouragement 
Shall  make  him  once  relent 
His  first  avowed  intent 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 


Who  so  beset  him  round 
With  dismal  stories, 

Do  but  themselves  confound, 
His  strength  the  more  is. 

No  lion  can  him  fright ; 

He'll  with  a  giant  fight, 

But  he  will  have  a  right 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 


Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 

Can  daunt  his  spirit ; 
He  knows  he  at  the  end 

Shall  life  inherit. 
Then  fancies  fly  away. 
He'll  not  fear  what  men  say, 
He'll  labor  night  and  day 
To  be  a  pilgrim. 


^^^ 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Enchanted  Ground. 

Three  important  scenes  and  lessons  occur  in  this  chapter,  which  contains  the  ac- 
count of  the  passage  of  the  Pilgrims  through  the  Enchanted  Ground — (i)  The  danger  of 
the  Pilgrim-band,  and  their  earnest  struggles  to  resist  the  perils  that  encompass  them;  (2) 
the  deadly  peril  of  other  Pilgrims,  who,  contrary  to  all  the  safe  directions  given  them,  had 
fallen  asleep,  and  could  not  be  awaked ;  and  (3)  the  introduction  of  one  Stand-fast  to 
the  group,  and  the  additional  profit  and  instruction  contributed  to  the  Allegory  by  his  spirit- 
ual experience. 

The  character  of  Stand-fast  is  beautifully  introduced,  and  is  well  wrought  out,  even 
to  the  close  He  is  a  wrestling  Christian,  striving  against  sin,  and  doing  battle  "on  his 
knees  "  against  the  carnal  temptations  of  the  world  and  the  flesh  We  have  stated  in  the 
notes  of  the  former  Pilgrimage  that  the  Enchanted  Ground  is  meant  to  indicate  a  state  of 
temporal  prosperity,  in  which  men  are  inclined  to  slumber,  and  ease,  and  luxurious  indulg- 
ence of  the  flesh.  And,  accordingly,  this  is  the  very  temptation  that  assails  Stand-fasi 
in  this  perilous  place.  Madam  Bubble  is  the  ably-drawn  picture  of  the  present  evil  world, 
in  its  manifold  and  strong  temptation  of  the  fleshly  nature  and  of  the  carnal  sense.  And 
after  a  man  has  gained  the  world  and  lost  his  soul,  what  has  he  gained  ? — a  bubble  !  what 
has  he  lost  ? — his  life,  eternity,  and  all ! 

Y  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted  Ground,  where 
the  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy;  and  that 
place  was  all  grown  over  with  briars  and  thorns,  except- 
ing here  and  there,  where  was  an  enchanted  arbor,  upon 
which  if  a  man  sits,  or  in  which  if  a  man  sleeps,  it  is  a 
question,  say  some,  whether  ever  he  shall  rise  or  wake  again  in  this 
world.  Over  this  forest  therefore  they  went,  both  one  and  another. 
Mr.  Great-heart  went  before,  for  that  he  was  their  guide;  Mr. 
Valiant-for-truth  came  behind,  being  rear  guard  ;  for  fear  lest  per- 
adventure  some  fiend,  or  dragon,  or  giant,  or  thief,  should  fall  upon 
their  rear,  and  so  do  mischief.     They  went  on  here,  each  man  with 


The  Enchanted  Ground. — The  natural 
tendency  of  this  place  is  to  make  one  drowsy. 
The  enchantments  of  the  world  are  danger- 
ous to  the  spiritual  health,  tending  to  stupefy 
the  soul,  and  to  bring  it  into  the  captivity  of 
spiritual  lethargy  and  unconcern.     It  repre- 

(422) 


sents  that  state  of  carnal  ease  and  worldly 
prosperity  that  rocks  the  spiritual  man  to 
slumber,  bewitching  him  with  the  world's 
smiles  and  sunshine,  and  causing  him  to 
forget  God.  The  stumblings  and  downfalls 
of  the  Pilgrims  indicate  the  dangers  of  such 


423 


424 


The  Unchanted  Ground. 


his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  they  knew  it  was  a  dangerous  place. 
Also  they  cheered  up  one  another  as  well  as  they  could.  Feeble- 
mind,  Mr.  Great-heart  commanded,  should  come  up  after  him,  and 
Mr.  Despondency  was  under  the  eye  of  Mr.  Valiant. 

Now  they  had  not  gone  far,  but  a  great  mist  and  darkness  fell 
upon  them  all,  so  that  they  could  scarce,  for  a  great  while,  one  see 
the  other ;  wherefore  they  were  forced  for  some  time  to  feel  for  one 
another  by  words,  for  they  walked  not  by  sight.  But  any  one  must 
think  that  here  was  but  sorry  going  for  the  best  of  them  all ;  but  how 
much  worse  was  it  for  the  women  and  children,  who  both. of  feet  and 
heart  were  but  tender.  Yet  so  it  was,  that,  through  the  encouraging 
words  of  him  that  led  in  the  front,  and  of  him  that  brought  them  up 
behind,  they  make  a  pretty  good  shift  to  wag  along. 

The  way  was  also  here  very  wearisome,  through  dirt  and  slab- 
biness.  Nor  was  there  on  all  this  ground  so  much  as  one  inn  or 
victualling-house  wherein  to  refresh  the  feebler  sort.  Here,  there- 
fore, was  grunting,  and  puffing  and  sighing ;  while  one  tumbleth  over 
a  bush,  another  sticks  fast  in  the  dirt ;  and  the  children,  some  of  them 
lost  their  shoes  in  the  mire ;  while  one  cries  out,  I  am  down !  and 
another.  Ho,  where  are  you  ?  and  a  third.  The  bushes  have  got  such 
a  fast  hold  on  me,  I  think  I  cannot  get  away  from  them. 

Then  they  came  to  an  arbor,  warm  and  promising,  much  refresh- 
ing to  the  pilgrims  ;  for  it  was  finely  wrought  above-head,  beautified 
with  greens,  furnished  with  benches  and  settles.  It  also  had  in  it  a 
soft  couch,  where  the  weary  might  lean.  This,  you  must  think,  all 
things  considered,  was  tempting ;  for  the  pilgrims  already  began  to 
be  foiled  with  the  badness  of  the  way  ;  but  there  was  not  one  of 
them  that  made  so  much  as  a  motion  to  stop  there.  Yea,  for  aught 
I  could  perceive,  they  continually  gave  so  good  heed  to  the  advice  of 
their  guide,  and  he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of  dangers,  and  of  the 
nature  of  dangers,  when  they  were  at  them,  that  usually,  when  they 
were  nearest  to  them,  they  did  most  pluck  up  their  spirits,  and  hearten 
one  another  to  deny  the  flesh.    This  arbor  was  called  the  Slothful's 


a  state  of  spiritual  night  and  darkness ;  and 
the  arbor,  with  its  soft  and  tender  couch, 
means  the  utter  relapse  of  the  soul,  entirely 
resigned  to  the  pleasures  of  hfe,  and  spell- 
bound by  its  wily  enchantments. 

The  mist  and  darkness  of  this  stage  are 
consistent  with  the  spirit  of  the  enchanted 
scene.     Worldly  pleasure  waves  her  magic 


wand,  and  bids  a  cloud  of  misty  incense  to 
arise,  and  mysterious  darkness  to  descend  ; 
and  under  these  influences  the  soul  is  induced 
to  slumber  and  to  sleep  the  deep  slumber,  it 
may  be,  the  deadly  sleep  of  oblivion  and 
forgetfulness.  The  soul  needs  light  in  such 
a  place,  and  by  that  light  the  Pilgrims  do 
well  to  read  the  directions  of  the  way,  lest 


MR.  GREAT-HEART. 


425 


426 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Friend,  and  was  made  on  purpose  to  allure,  if  it  might  be,  some  of 
the  pilgrims  there  to  take  up  their  rest  when  weary. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  in  this  solitary  ground, 

till  they  came  to  a  place 
at  which  a  man  is  apt 
to  lose  his  way.  Now, 
though  when  it  was  lio-ht 
their  guide  could  well 
enoucrh  tell  how  to  miss 
those  ways  that  led  wrong, 
yet  in  the  dark  he  was  put 
to  a  stand  ;  but  he  had  in 
his  pocket  a  map  of  all 
ways  leading  to  or  from 
the  Celestial  City;  where- 
fore he  strikes  a  light  (for 
he  never  groes  also  with- 
out  his  tinder-box),  and 
takes  a  view  of  his  book 
or  map,  which  bids  him 
be  careful  in  that  place  to 
turn  to  the  right  hand. 
And  had  he  not  been 
careful  here  to  look  in  his 
map,  they  had  in  all  prob- 
a])ility  been  smothered  in 
the  mud  ;  for  just  a  little 
before  them,  and  that  at 
the  end  of  the  cleanest 
way,  too,  was  a  pit,  none 
knows  how  deep,  full  of 
nothing  but  mud,  there 
made  on  purpose  to  de- 
stroy the  pilgrims  in. 

Then  thought  I  with 
myself.  Who  that   goeth 
on  pilgrimage  but  would  have  one  of  these  maps  about  him,  that  he 
may  look,  when  he  is  at  a  stand,  which  is  the  way  he  must  take. 

Then  they  went  on  in  this  Enchanted  Ground,  till  they  came  to 
where  there  was  another  arbor,  and  it  was  built  by  the  highway  side. 


TURN-AWAY  WILL  NOT  LISTEN  TO  EVANGELIST. 


Heedless  mid  Too-bold. 


427 


And  in  that  arbor  there  lay  two  men,  whose  names  were  Heedless 
and  Too-bold.  These  two  went  thus  far  on  pilgrimage  ;  but  here, 
being  wearied  with  their  journey,  sat  down  to  rest  themselves,  and  so 
fell  fast  asleep.  When  the  pilgrims  saw  them,  they  stood  still,  and 
shook  their  heads;  for  they  knew  that  the  sleepers  were  in  a  pitiful 
case.  Then  they  consulted  what  to  do,  whether  to  go  on  and  leave 
them  in  their  sleep,  or  step  to  them  and  try  to  awake  them  ;  so  they 
concluded  to  go  to  them  and  awake  them  ;  that  is,  if  they  could  ;  but 
with  this  caution,  namely,  to  take  heed  that  they  themselves  did  rot 
sit  down,  nor  embrace  the  offered  benefit  of  that  arbor. 

So  they  went  in,  and  spake  to  the  men,  and  called  each  one  by 
his  name  (for  the  guide,  it  seems,  did  know  them),  but  there  was  no 
voice  nor  answer.  Then  the  guide  did  shake  them,  and  did  what 
he  could  to  disturb  them.  Then  said  one  of  them,  I  will  pay  yoi: 
when  I  take  my  money.  At  which  the  guide  shook  his  head.  I  will 
fight  so  long  as  I  can  hold  my  sword  in  my  hand,  said  the  other.  At 
that  one  of  the  children  laughed. 

Then  said  Christiana,  What  is  the  meanino-  of  this  ?  The 
Guide  said,  They  talk  in  their  sleep  ;  if  you  strike  them,  beat  them, 
or  whatever  else  you  do  to  them,  they  will  answer  you  after  this 
fashion  ;  or  as  one  of  them  said  in  old  time,  when  the  waves  of  the 
sea  beat  upon  him,  and  he  slept  as  one  upon  the  mast  of  a  ship, 
"When  I  awake,  I  will  seek  it  yet  again"  (Prov.  23  :  34,  35).  You 
know,  when  men  talk  in  their  sleep,  they  say  anything,  but  their 
words  are  not  governed  either  by  faith  or  reason.     There  is  an  inco- 


they  too  should  be  entangled  in  "  the  net  of 
the  flatterer,"  or  in  some  other  yoke  of 
bondage. 

There  is  also  great  danger  here  lest  we 
mistake  the  true  nature  of  the  right  way.  In 
days  of  ease  and  worldly  peace  we  are  liable 
to  choose  "the  cleanest  way,"  and  to  avoid 
the  narrow  path  because  it  may,  for  the  time, 
seem  to  be  less  pleasant  to  the  tread.  Here 
it  is  important,  yea,  essential,  that  we  con- 
sult a  map,  seeing  that  by  this  only  can  we 
tell  whither  each  way  leads,  and  what  is  the 
end  to  which  each  path  conducts.  This  is 
the  place  wherein  to  walk  with  wary  steps 
and  wakeful  eye — "  by  faith,  and  not  by 
sight." 

Heedless  and  Too-bold. — These  men  are 
described  as  having  thus  far  advanced  upon 


their  journey ;  but  now,  at  one  of  the  later 
stages,  they  are  overpowered,  not  by  any 
direct  assault  of  Satan,  but  by  the  soft  and 
indulgent  spirit  of  slumber.  Here  Satan's 
power  is  strong,  and  all  the  more  insidious 
because  it  is  unseen.  It  steals  softly  over 
the  soul,  and  sheds  the  soporific  dew  upoi 
the  eyehds  of  the  understanding,  making  us 
heavy  with  sleep  and  weary  of  the  way.  It 
is  Satan's  last  hour  and  the  power  of  dark- 
ness. So  near  the  land  of  Beulah  and  yet 
asleep  !  but  a  single  stage  removed  from  the 
end  of  the  journey — "  almost,"  but  not  "al- 
together" saved!  (Acts  26:  28,  29)  As 
Bunyan  elsewhere  speaks  of  King  Agrippa:/ 
"  He  stepped  fair,  but  stepped  short.  He 
was  hot  while  he  ran,  but  he  was  quickly 
out  of  breath."     This  is  a  timely  admonition 


428 


The  Pilgrims  Progress. 


herency  in  their  words  now,  as  there  was  before  betwixt  their  going 
on  pilgrimage  and  sitting  down  here.  This,  then,  is  the  mischief  ot 
^t ;  when  heedless  ones  go  on  pilgrimage,  'tis  twenty  to  one  but  they 

are  served  thus.  F"or  this 
Enchanted  Ground  is  one 
of  the  last  refuges  that  the 
enemy  to  pilgrims  has  ; 
wherefore  it  is,  as  you  see, 
placed  almost  at  the  end 
of  the  way,  and  so  it 
standeth  against  us  with 
the  more  advantage.  For 
when,  thinks  the  enemy, 
will  these  fools  be  so  de- 
sirous to  sit  down  as  when 
they  are  weary  ?  and  when 
so  like  for  to  be  weary, 
as  when  almost  at  their 
journey's  end  ?  Therefore 
it  is,  I  say,  that  the  En- 
chanted Ground  is  placed 
so  nigh  to  the  land  Beu- 
lah,  and  so  near  the  end 
of  their  race.  Wherefore 
let  pilgrims  look  to  them- 
selves, lest  it  happen  to 
them  as  it  has  done  to 
these,  that,  as  you  see,  are 
fallen  asleep  and  none  can 
awake  them. 

Then  the  pilgrims  de- 
sired, with  trembling,  to  go 
forward  ;  only  they  prayed 
their  guide  to  strike  a  light, 
that  they  might  go  the  rest 
of  their  way  by  the  help 
of  a  lantern.  So  he  struck  a  light,  and  they  went  by  the  help  of 
that  through  the  rest  of  this  way,  though  the  darkness  was  very 
great  (2  Peter  1:19). 

But  the  children  began  to  be  sorely  weary  ;  and  they  cried  out 


MR.  VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH. 


Mr.  Stand-fast. 


429 


unto  him  that  loveth  pilgrims  to  make  their  way  more  comfortable. 
So,  by  that  they  had  gone  a  little  farther,  a  wind  arose  that  drove 
away  the  fog  ;  so  the  air  became  more  clear.  Yet  they  were  not  off 
by  much  of  the  Enchanted  Ground,  but  only  now  they  could  see 
one  another  better,  and  the  way  wherein  they  should  walk. 

Now,  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this  ground,  they 
perceived  that  a  little  before  them  was  a  solemn  noise  as  of  one  that 
was  much  concerned.  So  they  went  on,  and  looked  before  them ; 
and  behold  they  saw,  as  they  thought,  a  man  upon  his  knees,  with 
his  hands  and  eyes  lifted  up,  and  speaking,  as  they  thought,  ear- 
nestly to  some  one  that  was  above.  They  drew  nigh,  but  could  not  tell 
what  he  said  ;  so  they  went  softly  till  he  had  done.  When  he  had  done, 
he  got  up,  and  began  to  run  towards  the  Celestial  City,  Then  Mr. 
Great-heart  called  after  him,  saying,  Soho,  friend !  let  us  have  your 
company,  if  you  go,  as  I  suppose  you  do,  to  the  Celestial  City,  So 
the  man  stopped,  and  they  came  up  to  him ;  but  so  soon  as  Mr. 
Honest  saw  him,  he  said,  I  know  this  man.  Then  said  Mr.  Valiant- 
for-truth,  Pr'ythee,  who  is  it?  It  is  one,  said  he,  that  comes  from 
(thereabout  I  dwelt ;  his  name  is  Stand-fast ;  he  is  certainly  a  right 
^ood  pilgrim. 

So  they  came  up  one  to  another  ;  and  presently  Stand-fast  said 
to  old  Honest,  Ho !  father  Honest,  are  you  there  ?  Aye,  said  he, 
that  am  I,  as  sure  as  you  are  there.  Right  glad  am  I,  said  Mr. 
Stand-fast  that  I  have  found  you  on  this  road.  And  as  glad  am  I, 
said  the  other,  that  I  espied  you  on  your  knees.  Then  Mr.  Stand- 
fast blushed,  and  said.  But  why,  did  you  see  me  ?  Yes,  that  I  did, 
quoth  the  other,  and  with  my  heart  was  glad  at  the  sight.  Why, 
what  did  you  think?  said  Stand-fast.  Think,  said  old  Honest;  what 
should  I  think?  I  thought  we  had  an  honest  man  on  the  road,  and 
therefore  should  have  his  company  by-and-by.     If  you  thought  not 


to  us  all,  even  to  those  that  are  farthest 
travelled  on  the  road,  that  we  be  watchful 
to  the  end,  and  so  much  the  more  as  we  see 
the  day  approaching. 

They  cried  out. — In  prayer,  as  Christian 
had  done  in  his  days  of  darkness,  and  as  all 
true  Pilgrims  must  do,  if  they  would  walk 
safely  through  the  dim  shadows  that  obscure 
the  evidence  of  the  soul.  In  all  time  of  our 
wealth,  and  in  all  seasons  of  pleasure  and 
prosperity,  we  have  as  much  need  of  the 
weapon  of  All-prayer  as  in  the  dark  days  of 


adversity.  Darkness  gathers  """ound  the 
soul  amid  the  enchantments  of  the  En- 
chanted Ground,  as  well  as  amid  the  spirits 
of  the  vast  deep  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death, 

One  that  was  much  concerned. — The  in- 
tensity of  the  danger,  and  the  extreme 
necessity  of  the  Pilgrims  at  this  stage,  are 
well  described  by  this  scene  of  the  praying 
Pilgrim,  Stand-fast.  "  Behold,  he  pray-J 
eth  !  "  What  darkness  hath  befallen  him  ; 
what  danger  threatened  him ;    what  sore 


430  The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

amiss,  said  Stand-fast,  how  happy  am  I  ;  but,  if  I  be  not  as  I  should, 
it  is  I  alone  must  bear  it.  That  is  true,  said  the  other  ;  but  your 
fear  doth  further  confirm  me  that  things  are  rio^ht  betwixt  the  Prince 
of  Pilgrims  and  your  soul ;  for  he  saith,  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
feareth  always." 

Val.  Well,  but  brother,  I  pray  thee  tell  us,  what  was  it  that  was 
the  cause  of  thy  being  upon  thy  knees  jven  now?  Was  it  for  that 
some  special  mercies  laid  obligations  upon  thee,  or  how  ? 

Stand.  Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground  ; 
and  as  I  was  coming  along,  I  was  musing  with  myself  of  what  a 
dangerous  nature  the  road  in  this  place  was  ;  and  how  many,  who 
had  come  even  thus  far  on  pilgrimage,  had  here  been  stopped  and 
been  destroyed.  I  thought  also  of  the  manner  of  death  with  which 
this  place  destroyed  men.  Those  that  die  here  die  of  no  violent  dis- 
temper ;  the  death  which  such  die  is  not  grievous  to  them  ;  for  he 
that  goeth  away  in  a  sleep  begins  that  journey  with  desire  and 
pleasure  ;  yea,  such  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 

Then  Mr.  Honest,  interrupting  him,  said,  Did  you  see  the  two 
men  asleep  in  the  arbor  ? 

Stand.  Aye,  aye;  I  saw  Heedless  and  Too-bold  there;  and, 
for  aught  I  know,  there  they  will  lie  till  they  rot  (Prov.  lo:  7)  ;  but 
let  me  go  on  with  my  tale.  As  I  was  thus  musing,  as  I  said,  there 
was  one  in  very  pleasant  attire,  but  old,  who  presented  herself  to 
me,  and  offered  me  three  things  :  to  wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and 
her  bed.  Now  the  truth  is,  I  was  both  weary  and  sleepy  ;  I  am  also 
as  poor  as  an  owlet,  and  that  perhaps  the  witch  knew.  Well,  I  re- 
pulsed her  once  and  again  ;  but  she  put  by  my  repulses  and  smiled. 
Then  I  began  to  be  angry ;  but  she  mattered  that  nothing  at  all. 
Then  she  made  offers  again,  and  said.  If  I  would  be  ruled  by  her,  she 


affliction  is  it  that  hath  thus  brought  him  to 
his  knees  ?  Stand-fast,  no  doubt,  has 
borne  many  a  brunt  of  battle,  and  in  days 
of  open  danger  has  been  caparisoned  for  the 
fight,  and  has  fought  his  battles  bravely. 
But  he  is  now  walking  amid  the  enchant- 
ments of  earthly  scenes ;  and,  lo,  an  en- 
chantress stands  beside  him  to  allure  him 
from  the  path  of  safety.  In  this  time  of 
danger  the  tempted  Pilgrim  betakes  himself 
to  prayer. 

Madam  Bubble. — Here  is  the  world,  with 
its  chief  enchantments,  tempting  what  re- 
mains of  the  carnal  sense  and  of  the  fleshly 


mind,  so  as  to  wake  up  its  last  surviving 
spark  of  earthliness,  and  lull  the  "  new 
man  "  into  its  deadly  sleep — 

"  Till  the  swollen  bubble  bursts— and  all  is  air ! " 

This  phantom  world,  this  painted  parti 
colored  bubble,  that  men  covet,  and  chase, 
and  cherish,  and  for  which  most  men  sell 
their  very  souls — this  earthly  element  now 
strives  to  tempt  the  Pilgrim.  This  is  the 
Delilah  of  the  pilgrimage — the  enchantress 
of  the  Enchanted  Ground.  If  thou  wilt  but 
lay  thy  head  upon  her  lap,  and  rest  thee, 
while  she  lulls  thee  into  sleep,  all  thy  days 


Madam  Bubble. 


43  i 


STAND-FAST  RESISTS  TEMPTATION. 

would  make  me  great  and  happy  ;  for,  said  she,  I  am  the  mistress  of 
the  world,  and  men  are  made  happy  by  me.  Then  I  asked  her 
name,  and  she  told  me  it  was  Madam  Bubble.  This  set  me  further 
from  her  ;  but  she  still  followed  me  with  enticements.  Then  I  betook 
me,  as  you  saw,  to  my  knees,  and  with  hands  lifted  up,  and  cries,  I 
prayed  to  Him  that  had  said  he  would  help.  So  just  as  you  came 
up  the  gentlewoman  went  her  way.  Then  I  continued  to  give  thanks 
for  this  great  deliverance  ;  for  I  verily  believe  she  intended  no  good, 
but  rather  sought  to  make  stop  of  me  in  my  journey, 

Hon.    Without  doubt,  her  designs  were  bad.     But  stay,   now 


are  henceforth  days  of  weakness,  bhndness, 
and  cnptivity  Had  the  strong  Samson 
krelt  in  prayer  in  the  day  of  the  Philistines, 
he  had  been  Stand-fast  to  the  end.  But 
he  slept  as  many  sleep,  on  the  Enchanted 
Ground,  and  all  was  lost ! 

Then  I  took  me  to  my  knees. — This  was 


his  safety.  In  any  other  strength  than  this 
he  could  but  fail.  Hence  prayer  is  always 
needed  ;  for  this  temptation  ever  assails  us. 
So  long  as  we  are  in  the  world,  the  spirit  of 
the  world  would  woo  and  win  us  to  the  loss 
of  our  eternal  gain.  Beware  of  Madam 
Bubble,  all  ye  Pilgrims  who  would  be  safe. 


432 


The  Pilgrijns  Progress. 


you  talk  of  her,  methinks  I  either  have  seen  her,  or  have  read  some 
story  of  lier. 

Stand,    Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 

Hon.  Madam  Bubble!  Is  she  not  a  tall,  comely  dame,  some- 
what of  a  swarthy  complexion  ? 

Stand,    Right,  you  hit  it ;  she  is  just  such  a  one. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give  you  a  smile 
at  the  end  of  a  sentence  ? 

Stand.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are  her  very 
actions. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  wear  a  great  purse  by  her  side  ?  and  is  not 
her  hand  often  in  it  fingering  her  money,  as  if  that  was  her  heart's 
delight  ? 

Stand.  It  is  just  so ;  had  she  stood  by  all  this  while,  you  could  not 
more  amply  have  set  her  forth  before  me,  nor  have  better  described 
her  features. 

Hon.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a  good  limner,  and  he 
that  wrote  of  her  said  true. 

Great.  Tliis  woman  is  a  witch,  and  it  is  by  virtue  of  her  sorcer- 
ies that  this  ground  is  enchanted.  Whoever  doth  lay  his  head  down 
in  her  lap,  had  as  good  lay  it  down  upon  that  block  over  which  the 
axe  doth  hang ;  and  whoever  lay  their  eyes  upon  her  beauty  are 
accounted  the  enemies  of  God  (i  John  2  :  14,  15).  This  is  she  that 
maintaineth  in  their  splendor  all  those  that  are  the  enemies  of  pil- 
grims. Yea,  this  is  she  that  hath  brought  off  many  a  man  from  a 
pilgrim's  life.  She  is  a  great  gossiper  ;  she  is  always,  both  she  and 
her  daughters,  at  one  pilgrim's  heels  or  another,  now  commending, 
and  then  preferring,  the  excellences  of  this  life.  She  is  a  bold  and 
impudent  slut ;  she  will  talk  with  any  man.  She  always  laugheth  poor 
pilgrims  to  scorn,  but  highly  commends  the  rich.  If  there  be  one 
cunning  to  get  money  in  a  place,  she  will  speak  well  of  him  from 
house  to  house  ;  she  loveth  banqueting  and  feasting  mainly  well ;  she 
is  always  at  one  table  or  another.  She  has  given  it  out  in  some  places 
that  she  is  a  goddess,  and  therefore  some  do  worship  her.  She  has 
her  time  and  open  places  of  cheating;  and  she  will  say  and  avow  it, 
that  none  can  show  a  good  comparable  to  hers.     She  promiseth  to 


She  follows  to  the  final  stages,  even  to  the 
brink  of  the  river  does  she  tempt  you.  Then 
pray  all  through  the  pilgrimage.  Be  not 
fascinated  by  her  wiles,  nor  yet  enchanted 


by  her  spells.  Betake  you  to  your  knees  in 
prayer,  that  ye  may  be  "  able  to  withstand 
in  the  evil  day,  and  having  done  all,  to 
stand"  (Eph.  6:   13). 


Great-heart  desciibes  the   Wantons  Snares. 


433 


dwell  with  children's  children,  if  they  will  but  love  her  and  make 
much  of  her.  She  will  cast  out  of  her  purse  gold  like  dust,  in  some 
places,  and  to  some  persons.  She  loves  to  be  sought  after,  spoken 
well  of,  and  to  lie  in  the  bosoms  of  men.  She  is  never  weary  of  com- 
mending her  commodities,  and  she  loves  them  most  that  think  best 
of  her.  She  will  promise  to  some  crowns  and  kingdoms,  if  they  will 
but  take  her  advice  ;  yet  many  hath  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and 
ten  thousand  times  more  to  hell. 

Oh !  said  Stand-fast,  what  a  mercy  it  is  that  I  did  resist  her !  for 
whither  miorht  she  have  drawn  me  ! 

Great.  Whither  !  nay,  none  but  God  knows.  But,  in  general, 
to  be  sure  she  would  have  drawn  thee  into  "many  foolish  and  hurtful 
lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition  "  (i  Tim.  6:  9). 
It  was  she  that  set  Absalom  against  his  father,  and  Jeroboam  against 
his  master.  It  was  she  that  persuaded  Judas  to  sell  his  Lord,  and 
chat  prevailed  with  Demas  to  forsake  the  godly  pilgrim's  life.  None 
can  tell  of  the  mischief  that  she  doth.  She  makes  variance  betwixt 
rulers  and  subjects,  betwixt  parents  and  children,  betwixt  neighbor 
and  neighbor,  betwixt  a  man  and  his  wife,  betwixt  a  man  and  himself, 
betwixt  the  flesh  and  the  spirit.  Wherefore,  good  master  Stand-fast, 
be  as  your  name  is,  and  "when  you  have  done  all,  stand." 

At  this  discourse  there  was  among  the  pilgrims  a  mixture  of  joy 
and  trembling ;  but  at  length  they  broke  out  and  sang : 


What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in! 

How  many  are  his  foes ! 
How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin 

No  hving  mortal  knows. 


Some  in  the  ditch  spoil'd  are,  yea,  can 

Lie  tumbling  in  the  mire  ; 
Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan, 

Do  leap  into  the  fire. 


The  same  character  of  danger  that  assailed 
Faithful  at  the  outset  of  his  journey  in  the 
carnal  temptation  of  Adam  the  First,  now 
assails  Stand-fast  near  the  end  of  his  pil- 
grimage. The  world,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
world,  would  entangle  us  in  the  wilderness, 
and  make  a  truce  with  us,  and  so  hinder  the 
progress  of  our  journey  home.     It  is  for  us 


to  resist  her  enchantments  and  reject  her 
overtures.  "  What  peace,  so  long  as  her 
witchcrafts  are  so  many  ? "  (2  Kings  9  :  22). 

"  I,  under  fair  pretence  of  friendly  ends. 
And  well-placed  words  of  glowing  courtesy, 
Baited  with  reasons  not  unplausiole. 
Wind  me  into  the  easy-hearted  man, 
And  hug  him  into  snares." 


28 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


The  Pilgrims  at  Home. 


We  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  of  the  Second  Pilgrimage — the  last  stage,  the 
farewell  to  the  things  of  earth,  the  welcome  to  the  world  of  light  and  everlasting  life.  There 
is  a  sublimity  in  the  description  of  these  final  scenes  which  excels  that  of  the  foimer  Part. 
The  group  that  has  been  gradually  enlarging  is  now  about  to  break  up  and  to  dissolve  into 
the  Invisible.  In  the  portraiture  of  this  concluding  stage,  the  Dreamer  summons  to  his  aid 
all  his  powers  of  imagery  and  description.  A  perspective  opens  upon  the  view — a  continu- 
ous series  of  scenes,  as  the  Pilgrim-band  breaks  up,  piecemeal,  one  by  one.  Gathered 
together  in  the  Land  of  Beulah,  they  peacefully  await  the  summons  of  their  Lord.  They 
pass  not  the  fords  of  the  river  in  company,  as  Christian  and  Hopeful  did,  but  singly,  and 
each  alone.  In  the  description  of  these  successive  departures,  there  is  included  all  the 
solemnity  of  earthly  solicitude  with  all  the  heavenly  bliss  and  peace  characteristic  of  the 
death-bed  scene  of  the  departing  Christian. 


^^^p^FTER  this  I  beheld  until  they  were  come  into  the  Land  of 
Beulah,  where  the  sun  shineth  night  and  day.  Here,  be- 
cause they  were  weary,  diey  betook  themselves  a  while  to 
rest;  and  because  this  country  was  common  for  pilgrims, 
and  because  these  orchards  and  vineyards  that  were  here 
belonged  to  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country,  therefore  they  were 
licensed  to  make  bold  with  any  of  his  things.  But  a  little  while  soon 
refreshed  them  here,  for  the  bells  did  so  ring,  and  the  trumpets 
continually  sounded  so  melodiously,  that  they  could  not  sleep  ;  and 
yet  they  received  as  much  refreshing  as  if  they  had  slept  their  sleep 
ever  so  soundly.  Here  also  all  the  noise  of  them  that  walked  in 
the  streets  was.  More  pilgrims  are  come  to  town.  And  another 
would  answer,  saying,  And  so  many  went  over  the  water,  and  were 
let  in  at  the  golden  gates  to-day.     They  would  cry  again,  There  is 


The  Lmid  of  Beulah. — The  border-land 
of  heaven  is  Beulah — that  spiritual  state  of 
peace  and  rest  in  which  God  ever  comforts 
his  children,  and  feeds  them  with  heavenly 
food,  and  visits  them  with  his  grace  and 
love,  and  departs  not  from  the  holy  place  of 
the  heart  within  which  Jesus  is  enshrined  as 
the  loved  and  chosen  guest.     "  Thou  shalt 


be  called  Hephzibah,  and  thy  land  Beulah  ; 
for  the  Lord  delighteth  in  thee  ;  and  thy 
land  shall  be  married  "  (Isa.  62  :  4).  This  is 
the  place  of  the  espousal  of  the  soul  to 
Jesus. 


"The  bride  and  bridegroom  both  rejoice 
In  Beulah's  marriage  scene  ; 
While  earth  and  heaven  unite  their  voice, 
And  '  jrdan  rolls  between." 


(434) 


436 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


\\ 


now  a  legion  of  shining  ones  just  come  to  town,  by  which  we  know 
that  there  are  more  pilgrims  upon  the  road  ;  for  here  they  come  to 
wait  for  them,  and  comfort  them  after  their  sorrow.  Then  the 
pilgrims  got  up,  and  walked  to  and  fro  ;  but  how  were  their  eyes 
now  filled  with  celestial  visions  !  In  this  land,  they  heard  nothing,  saw 
nothing,  felt  nothing,  smelt  nothing,  tasted  nothing  that  was  offensive 
to  their  stomach  or  mind  ;  only,  when  they  tasted  of  the  water  of 
the  river,  over  which  they  were  to  go,  they  thought  that  tasted  a  little 
bitterish  to  the  palate,  but  it  proved  sweet  when  it  was  down. 

In  this  place  there  was  a  record  kept  of  the  names  of  them  that 
had  been  pilgrims  of  old,  and  a  history  of  all  the  famous  acts  that 
they  had  done.  It  was  here  also  much  discoursed,  how  the  river  to 
some  has  its  flo wings,  and  what  ebbings  it  has  had  while  others 
have  gone  over.  It  has  been  in  a  manner  dry  for  some,  while  it  has 
overflowed  its  banks  for  others. 

In  this  place  the  children  of  the  town  would  go  into  the  King's 
garden  and  gather  nosegays  for  the  pilgrims,  and  bring  them  to  them 
with  affection.  Here  also  grew  camphire,  spikenard,  saffron,  calamus, 
and  cinnamon,  and  all  the  trees  of  frankincense,  myrrh,  and  aloes, 
with  all  the  chief  spices.  With  these  the  pilgrims'  chambers  were 
perfumed  while  they  stayed  here;  and  with  these  were  their  bodies 
anointed  to  prepare  them  to  go  over  the  river  when  the  time 
appointed  was  come. 

Now  while  they  lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good  hour,  there 
was  a  noise  in  the  town,  that  there  was  a  post  come  from  the  Celes- 
tial City,  with  matters  of  great  importance  to  one  Christiana,  the 
wife  of  Christian  the  pilgrim.  So  inquiry  was  made  for  her,  and  the 
house  was  found  out  where  she  was  ;  so  the  post  presented  her  with 
a  letter  :  the  contents  were.  Hail,  good  woman  !  I  bring  thee  tidings, 
that  the  Master  calleth  for  thee  and  expecteth  that  thou  shouldst 
stand  in  his  presence,  in  the  clothes  of  immortality,  within  these  ten 
days. 


All  the  Pilgrim-band  are  resting  here,  as 
they  alone  can  rest  who  abide  in  Jesus  and 
are  stayed  upon  his  love.  They  are  now 
hard  by  the  waters  of  Death,  and  are  ripen- 
ing fast  for  the  reaper's  sickle.  Amid  the 
pleasures  of  his  grace  and  the  consolations 
of  his  love,  they  await  the  message  bearing 
the  summons  of  their  Lord. 

There  was  a  post  come. — And  now   the 


company  is  about  to  break  up,  and  Chris- 
tiana is  the  first  to  go.  Death  is  the  mes- 
senger of  God  to  man  to  take  him  home.  It 
comes  on  the  arrow-point ,  sharp  and  pain- 
ful it  may  be,  but  it  is  an  arrow  of  love.  It 
breaks  the  cord  of  this  mortal  life,  but  only 
to  bind  it  again,  in  an  indissoluble  bond,  to 
the  heart  of  Jesus. 

Such  a  one    as   Christiana  has  many 


Christiajia  s  htjuiictionS. 


437 


When  he  had  read  the  letter  to  her,  he  gave  her  therewith  a  sure 
token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  and  was  come  to  bid  her  make 
haste  to  be  gone.  The  token  was  an  arrow  sharpened  with  love, 
let  easily  into  her  heart,  which,  by  degrees,  wrought  so  effectually 
with  her  that  at  the  time  appointed  she  must  be  gone. 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and  that  she  was 
the  first  of  this  company  that  was  to  go  over,  she  called  for  Mr. 
Great-heart,  her  guide,  and  told  him  how  matters  were.  So  he  told 
her  he  was  heartily  glad  of  the  news,  and  could  have  been  glad  liad 
the  post  come  for  him.  Then  she  bid  that  he  should  give  advice  how 
all  things  should  be  prepared  for  the  journey.  So  he  told  her,  say- 
ing. Thus  and  thus  it  must  be  ;  and  we  that  survive  will  accompany 
you  to  the  river-side. 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  their  blessing  ; 
and  told  them  that  she  had  read  with  comfort  the  mark  that  was  set 
in  their  foreheads,  and  was  glad  to  see  them  with  her  there,  and  that 
they  had  kept  their  garments  so  white.  Lastly  she  bequeathed  to  the 
poor  what  little  she  had,  and  commanded  her  sons  and  daughters  to 
be  ready  against  the  messenger  should  come  for  them. 

When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to  her  guide  and  to  her  children, 
she  called  for  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  and  said  unto  him,  Sir,  you  have 
in  all  places  showed  yourself  true-hearted  ;  be  faithful  unto  death, 
and  my  King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life.  I  would  also  entreat  you 
to  have  an  eye  to  my  children  ;  and  if,  at  any  time,  you  see  them 
faint,  speak  comfortably  to  them.  For  my  daughters,  my  sons'  wives, 
they  have  been  faithful,  and  a  fulfilling  of  the  promise  upon  them 
will  be  their  end.     But  she  gave  Mr.  Stand-fast  a  ring. 

Then  she  called  for  old  Mr.  Honest,  and  said  of  him,  "  Behold 
an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile."  Then  said  he,  I  wish  you 
a  fair  day  when  you  set  out  for  Mount  Zion,  and  shall  be  glad  to 
see  that  you  go  over  the  river  dry-shod.  But  she  answered,  Come 
wet,  come  dry,  I  long  to  be  gone ;  for,  however  the  weather  is  in 
my  journey,  I  shall  have  time  enough,  when  I  come  there,  to  sit  down 
and  rest  me  and  dry  me. 


things  to  say,  many  messages  to  leave, 
many  adieus  to  present  to  those  that  have 
borne  her  company  in  the  way.  To  each 
she  speaks,  according  to  his  want,  accord- 
ing to  his  strength.  She  sets  her  house  in 
order,  commits  her  children  and  children's 
children  to  the  good  offices  of  strong  and 


valiant  men,  comforts  all  her  fellows  with  the 
consolation  wherewith  she  also  is  comforted, 
and  now  is  ready  to  depart  and  be  with 
Christ  forever  with  the  Lord. 

And  what  a  death-bed  is  that  of  the  full- 
ripe  Christian  !  Both  shores  are  filled  with 
the  communion   of  saints,  while   the  river 


438 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 


Then  came  in  that  good  man,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  to  see  her.  So 
she  said  to  him.  Thy  travel  hitherto  has  been  with  difficulty  ;  but  that 
will  make  thy  rest  the  sweeter.  Watch  and  be  ready  ;  for  at  an 
hour  when  you  think  not  the  messenger  may  come. 

After  him  came  Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter,  Much- 
afraid  ;  to  whom  she  said,  You  ought  with  thankfulness  for  ever  to 
remember  your  deliverance  from  the  hand  of  Giant  Despair,  and  out 
of  Doubting  Castle.  The  effect  of  that  mercy  is,  that  you  are  brought 
with  safety  hither.  Be  ye  watchful  and  cast  away  fear ;  be  sober, 
and  hope  to  the  end. 

Then  she  said  to  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  Thou  wast  delivered  from 
the  mouth  of  Giant  Slay-good,  that  thou  mightest  live  in  the  light  of 
the  living  for  ever,  and  see  thy  King  with  comfort ;  only  I  advise 
thee  to  repent  of  thine  aptness  to  fear  and  doubt  ot  his  goodness, 
before  he  sends  for  thee  ;  lest  thou  shouldst,  when  he  comes,  be 
forced  to  stand  before  him  for  that  fault  with  blushing. 

Now  the  day  drew  on  that  Christiana  must  be  gone.  So  the 
road  was  full  of  people  to  see  her  take  her  journey.  But,  behold,  all 
the  banks  beyond  the  river  were  full  of  horses  and  chariots,  which 
were  come  down  from  above,  to  accompany  her  to  the  city  gate.  So 
she  came  forth  and  entered  the  river,  with  a  beckon  of  farewell  to 
those  that  followed  her.  The  last  words  that  she  was  heard  to  say 
were,  I  come,  Lord,  to  be  with  thee,  and  bless  thee. 

So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to  their  place,  for  those 
that  waited  for  Christiana  had  carried  her  out  of  their  sight.     So  she 
went  and  called,  and  entered  in  at  the  gate,  with  all  the  ceremonies: 
of  joy  that  her  husband  Christian  had  entered  with  before  her. 

At  her  departure  the  children  wept.  But  Mr.  Great-heart  and( 
Mr.  Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned  cymbal  and  harp  for  joy. ' 
So  all  departed  to  their  respective  places. 

In  process  of  time  there  came  a  post  to  the  town  again,  and  his 
business  was  with  Mr.  Ready-to-halt.     So  he  inquired  him  out,  and 


flows  between.  On  earth  they  throng  around 
her  bed-side,  and  stand  as  it  were  along  the 
sloping  strand  by  the  river-brink.  In  heaven 
a  yet  more  glorious  throng  awaits  her — of 
chariots  and  horses,  and  white-robed  priests 
and  kings,  to  Hfe  her  from  the  fast-flowing 
tide,  and  upbear  her  to  the  golden  gates  and 
to  the  all-glorious  throne.  And  this  scene  is 
ended ! 


Mr.  Ready-to-halt. — And  now  this  lame 
and  limping  Pilgrim  is  summoned.  He  has 
leaned  upon  his  crutches  hitherto  ;  but  now 
the  chariots  of  the  Lord  await  him.  They 
that  trust  God's  promises,  and  lean  upon  hii.' 
Word,  shall  have  the  full  enjoyment  of  them 
all  in  the  land  where  there  is  no  more  hope 
or  promise,  for  all  is  the  full  fruition  of  eter- 
nal glory.     We  take  not  the  promises  with 


\  Mr.  Feeble-miiid  crosses  the  River.  439 

said,  1  am  come  from  Him  whom  thou  hast  loved  and  followed,  though 
upon  crutches ;  and  my  message  is,  to  tell  thee  that  he  expects  thee 
at  his  table,  to  sup  with  him  in  his  kingdom,  the  next  day  after 
Easter ;  wherefore  prepare  thyself  for  this  journey.  Then  he  also 
gave  him  a  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger,  saying,  'T  have 
broken  thy  golden  bowl,  and  loosed  thy  silver  cord"  (Eccles.  12  :  6). 

After  this,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow-pilgrims,  and 
told  them,  saying,  I  am  sent  for,  and  God  shall  surely  visit  you  also. 
So  he  desired  Mr.  Valiant  to  make  his  will ;  and  because  he  had 
nothing  to  bequeath  to  them  that  should  survive  him  but  his  crutches 
and  his  good  wishes,  therefore  thus  he  said,  These  crutches  I  be- 
queath to  my  son  that  shall  tread  in  my  steps,  with  a  hundred  warm 
wishes  that  he  may  prove  better  than  I  have  been. 

Then  he  thanked  Mr.  Great-heart  for  his  conduct  and  kindness, 
and  so  addressed  himself  to  his  journey.  When  he  came  to  the 
brink  of  the  river,  he  said.  Now  I  shall  have  no  more  need  of  these 
crutches,  since  yonder  are  chariots  and  horses  for  me  to  ride  on. 
The  last  words  he  was  heard  to  say  were,  Welcome,  life  !  So  he  went 
his  way. 

After  this,  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  tidings  brought  him  that  the 
post  sounded  his  horn  at  his  chamber-door.  Then  he  came  in,  and 
told  him,  saying,  I  am  come  to  tell  thee  that  thy  Master  hath  need  of 
thee,  and  that  in  a  very  little  time  thou  must  behold  his  face  in 
brightness.  And  take  this  as  a  token  of  the  truth  of  my  message: 
"Those  that  look  out  at  the  windows  shall  be  darkened." 

Then  Mr.  Feeble-mind  called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them 
what  errand  had  been  brought  unto  him,  and  what  token  he  had  re- 
ceived  of  the  truth  of  the  message.  Then  he  said,  Since  I  have 
nothing  to  bequeath  to  any,  to  what  purpose  should  I  make  a  will  ? 
As  for  my  feeble  mind,  that  I  will  leave  behind,  for  that  I  shall  have 
no  need  of  in  the  place  whither  I  go  ;  nor  is  it  worth  bestowing 
upon  the  poorest  pilgrims;  wherefore,  when  I  am  gone,  I  desire 
that  you,  Mr.  Valiant,  would  bury  it  in  a  dung-hill.     This  done,  and 


us  into  heaven,  but  leave  them  behind  us 
for  other  Pilgrims  of  the  way. 

Mr.  Feeble- mind. — The  former  victim  of 
Giant  Slay-good  is  now  summoned  to  his 
rest.  In  feebleness  he  has  trod  the  path  ;  he 
had  gone  softly  all  his  days ;  but  withal  he 
had  been  faithful  to  his  King.     Fo*-  this  he 


weakly  child,  is  taken  to  his  great  Father's 
bosom.  In  deep  humility  he  had  walked ; 
in  very  humiliation  he  ever  loved  to  live ;  his 
death-bed  was  a  lowly  cot ;  and  no  better 
burying-place  does  he  desire  than  "the 
dung-hill:"  To  this  humble-minded  man  is 
now   the  message  sent — "  Friend,  come  up 


is  rewarded  at  the  last,  and,  as  a  sickly-      higher  i"    He  invokes  "  faith  and  patience ' 


440  The  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 

the  day  being  come  in  which  he  was  to  depart,  he  entered  the  rivei 
as  the  rest.  His  last  words  were,  Hold  out,  faith  and  patience!  So 
he  went  over  to  the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away,  Mr.  Despondency 
was  sent  for ;  for  a  post  was  come,  and  brought  this  message  to 
him  :  Trembling  man,  these  are  to  summon  thee  to  be  ready  with 
the  King  by  the  next  Lord's  day,  to  shout  for  joy,  for  thy  deliver- 
ance from  all  thy  doubtings.  And,  said  the  messenger,  that  my 
message  is  true,  take  this  for  a  proof;  so  he  gave  him  "a  grasshop- 
per tobeaburden  unto  him"  (Eccles.  12:  5).  Now  Mr.  Despond- 
ency's daughter,  whose  name  was  Much-afraid,  said,  when  she 
heard  what  was  done,  that  she  would  go  with  her  father.  Then  Mr. 
Despondency  said  to  his  friends,  Myself  and  my  daughter,  you 
know  what  we  have  been,  and  how  troublesomely  we  have  behaved 
ourselves  in  every  company  ;  my  will  and  my  daughter's  is  that  our 
desponds  and  slavish  fears  be  by  no  man  ever  received,  from  the 
day  of  our  departure,  for  ever  ;  for  I  know  that  after  my  death  they 
will  offer  themselves  to  others.  For,  to  be  plain  with  you,  they  are 
ghosts  which  we  entertained  when  we  first  began  to  be  pilgrims,  and 
could  never  shake  them  off  after ;  and  they  will  walk  about  and 
seek  entertainment  of  the  pilgrims  ;  but,  for  our  sakes,  shut  the 
doors  upon  them. 

When  the  time  was  come  for  them  to  depart  they  went  up  to 
the  brink  of  the  river.  The  last  words  of  Mr.  Despondency  were, 
Farewell,  night!  Welcome,  day!  His  daughter  went  through  the 
river  sineinof,  but  no  one  could  understand  what  she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  a  while  after,  that  there  was  a  post  in  the 
town  that    inquired   for    Mr.   Honest.     So    he    came  to   the  house 


to  abide  with  him  to  the  last,  and  passes  to 
the  other  side. 

Despo.ndency  and  Much-afraid. — Born  of 
the  same  blood,  characterized  by  the  same 
spiiit,  bound  once  in  the  same  bondage  of 
Doubting  Castle,  "  in  death  they  were  not 
divided.  '  And  in  putting  off  this  mortality 
an  1  the  fleshly  raiment,  they  put  off  also 
their  doubts  and  fears.  The  seeds  of  doubt 
h:ul  lingered  to  the  last.  The  iron  of  despair 
had  entered  into  their  soul,  and  the  marks 
of  their  bondage  were  never  wholly  effaced 
until  they  were  clothed  upon  with  immortal- 
ity. To  those  doubting  ones  earth  was  a 
night  season  of  gloom  and  darkness,  and  in 


the  border-land  they  saw  the  dawn  of  day ; 
and  when  the  summons  comes,  they  are  glad 
to  bid  farewell  to  the  night  that  is  past,  and 
to  welcome  with  joy  and  singing  the  eternal 
day,  whose  sunrising  shall  know  no  sunset. 
Mr.  Honest. — Thou  brave  Pilgrim  !  Jor- 
dan this  day  has  overflowed  its  banks,  and 
its  fords  are  deep,  and  its  swellings  high. 
But  thou  art  strong  to  breast  its  waves  and 
to  cross  its  floods  !  "  Good-conscience  "  is 
thy  succor,  and  "Grace  reigns"  thy  battle- 
cry.  Pass  safely  to  thy  rest !  As  a  brave, 
manly  Pilgrim,  "old  father  Honest"  has 
fought  the  good  fight,  has  discomfited  many 
a  foe,  and  by  his  true  faith  and  honest  walk 


442 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progj'ess. 


where  he  was,  and  dehvered  to  his  hands  these  Hnes:  Thou  art 
commanded  to  be  ready  against  this  day  se'nnight,  to  present  thy- 
self before  thy  Lord,  at  his  Father's  house.  And  for  a  token  that 
my  message  is  true,  "All  the  daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought 
low"  (Eccles.  12:  4).  Then  Mr.  hlonest  called  for  his  friends,  and 
said  unto  them,  I  die,  but  shall  make  no  will.  As  for  my  honesty,  h 
shall  go  with  me ;  let  him  that  comes  after  be  told  of  this. 

When  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  gone  was  come,  he  addressed 
himself  to  go  over  the  river.  Now  the  river  at  that  time  overflowed 
its  banks  in  some  places  ;  but  Mr.  Honest,  in  his  lifetime,  had 
spoken  to  one  Good-conscience  to  meet  him  there;  the  which  he 
also  did,  and  lent  him  his  hand,  and  so  helped  him  over.  The  last 
words  of  Mr.  Honest  were,  Grace  reigns  !     So  he  left  the  world. 

After  this,  it  was  noised  about  that  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth  was 
sent  for  by  a  summons  by  the  same  post  as  the  other,  and  had  this 
for  a  token  that  the  summons  was  true,  that  "his  pitcher  was  broken 
at  the  fountain  "(Eccles.  12:  6).  When  he  understood  it,  he  called 
for  his  friends,  and  told  them  of  it.  Then  said  he,  I  am  going  to  my 
Father's,  and  though  with  great  difficulty  I  got  hither,  yet  now  I  do 
not  repent  me  of  all  the  trouble  I  have  been  at  to  arrive  where  I 
am.  My  sword  I  give  to  him  that  shall  succeed  me  in  my  pilgrim- 
age, and  my  courage  and  skill  to  him  that  can  get  it.  My  marks 
and  scars  I  carry  with  me,  to  be  a  witness  for  me  that  I  have  fought 
his  battles  who  now  will  be  my  rewarder. 

When  the  day  that  he  must  go  hence  was  come,  many  accom- 
panied him  to  the  river-side,  into  which  as  he  went  he  said.  Death, 
where  is  thy  sting  ?  And  as  he  went  down  deeper,  he  said.  Grave, 
where  is  thy  victory?  So  he  passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets 
sounded  for  him  on  the  other  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a  summons  for  Mr.  Stand-fast.  This  Mr. 
Stand-fast  was  he  whom  the  pilgrims  found  upon  his  knees  in  the 


and  cheerful  countenance  he  has  tended 
much  to  mitigate  the  sorrows  and  the  trials 
of  the  Pilgrim-company.  These  men  of 
s^enerous  heart  and  large  experience  are  as 
strong  pillars,  upholding  the  consistency  and 
strength  of  the  spiritual  temple. 

Mr.  Valiant-for-truth. —  Behold,  a  troop 
cometh  ;  and  now,  encompassed  with  a  cloud 
of  witnesses,  a  trusty  Pilgrim  adventures  the 
flood !  It  is  Valiant-for-truth  that  now 
steps  down,  and  deeper  down,  and,  as  he 


sinks,  his  voice  is  lifted  up  more  bravely  and 
more  strong,  in  token  that  it  is  Victory  still. 
Death  and  the  grave  are  overcome  in  that 
brief  passage;  and  trumpets  sounding  at 
the  other  side  announce  that  the  brave  war- 
rior is  at  rest !  His  sword,  that  "  right  Jeru- 
salem blade,"  is  for  all  the  vahant  soldiers 
of  the  King — even  "the  sword  of  the  Spirit, 
which  is  the  Word  of  God." 

Mr.  Stand-fast. — Last  of  all,  the  message 
comes  for  Stand-fast,  and  he  obeys  the 


Mr.  S^/ajid-fasfs  Parting   Words. 


443 


Enchanted  G'r'and  ;  and  the  post  brought  it  him  open  in  his  hands. 
The  contents  whereof  were,  that  he  must  prepare  for  a  change  of  hfe, 
for  his  Master  was  not  wilhng  that  he  should  be  so  far  from  him  any 
longer.  At  this  Mr.  Stand-fast  was  put  into  a  muse.  Nay,  said  the 
messenger,  you  need  not  doubt  of  the  truth  of  my  message  ;  for 
here  is  a  token  of  the  truth  thereof,  Thy  wheel  is  broken  at  the 
cistern.  Then  he  called  to  him  Mr.  Great-heart,  who  was  their 
guide,  and  said  unto  him,  Sir,  although  it  was  not  in  my  hap  to  be 
much  in  your  good  company  in  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  yet,  since 
the  time  I  knew  you,  you  have  been  profitable  to  me.  When  I  came 
from  home,  I  left  behind  me  a  wife  and  five  small  children  ;  let  me 
entreat  you  at  your  return  (for  I  know  that  you  go  and  return  to 
your  Master's  house,  in  hopes  that  you  may  be  a  conductor  to  more 
of  the  holy  pilgrims),  that  you  send  to  my  family,  and  let  them  be 
acquainted  with  all  that  hath  and  shall  happen  unto  me.  Tell  them, 
moreover,  of  my  present  blessed  condition,  and  of  my  happy  arrival 
at  the  Celestial  City,  Tell  them  also  of  Christian  and  Christiana  his 
wife,  and  how  she  and  her  children  came  after  her  husband.  Tell 
tl  sm  also  what  a  happy  end  she  made,  and  whither  she  is  gone.  I 
have  little  or  nothing  to  send  to  my  family,  except  it  be  my  prayers 
■\nd  tears  for  them;  of  which  it  will  suffice  that  you  acquaint  them,  if 
peradventure  they  may  prevail. 

When  Mr.  Stand-fast  had  thus  set  things  in  order,  and  the  time 
being  come  for  him  to  haste  him  away,  he  also  went  down  to  the  river. 


summons.  Here  all  is  calm  and  peace.  No 
waves  or  buffetings,  no  agonies  or  pains  of 
death.  Still  and  gentle,  but  yet  cold  and 
bitter,  are  the  waters  of  the  river.  The 
dying  Pilgrim  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  ilood, 
and  speaks  words  of  counsel  and  of  ghostly 
strength  to  those  he  leaves  behind  him.  He 
tells  of  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  and  of  the 
joys  of  his  countenance ;  and  how  he  re- 
joiced to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  his  Master. 
Such  is  the  peaceful  departure  of  the  stead- 
fast Christian.  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  Uke 
his  !  " 

The  residue  of  the  company  are  left  upon 
the  earth  to  pursue  their  pilgrimage  still,  to 
bring  forth  a  people  to  the  Lord,  and  to  await 
the  summons  that  is  yet  to  call  them  away, 
to  follow  those  who  have  already  "through 
faith  and  patience  inherited  the  promises." 


And  who  next  ?  and  next  ?  It  may  be  you, 
or  the  summons  may  be  for  me !  There  is 
something  peculiarly  solemn,  glorious, 
grand,  about  this  final  shadow  of  the 
Dreamer's  dream,  as  it  thus  vanishes  from 
his  sight.  The  finishing  touch  of  the  inimit- 
able pencil  of  the  Allegorist  shades  off  the 
things  of  earth  into  the  things  of  heaven, 
and  merges  that  which  is  seen  and  temporal 
into  that  which  is  unseen  and  eternal.  And 
thus  we  bid  a  reluctant  farewell  to  the  vis- 
ions of  the  "Glorious  Dreamer,"  profited  by 
the  blest  lessons  he  hath  taught  us,  and  en- 
couraged to  pursue  with  greater  zeal  and 
vigor  the  path  of  our  own  spiritual  pilgrim- 
age to  the  Better  Land. 

"  Thither  my  weak  and  weary  steps  are  tending:— 
Saviour  and  Lord !   with  Thy  frail  child  abide ! 
Guide  me  toward  Home,  where,  all  my  wanderings 
ending, 
I  shall  see  Thee,  and  shall  be  satisfied  ! " 


444  The  Pilg7i?N's  Progress. 

Nc>w  there  was  a  great  calm  at  that  time  in  the  river  ;  wherefore  l^.Tr, 
Stand-fast,  when  he  was  about  halfway  in,  stood  a  while  and  talked  to 
his  companions  that  had  waited  upon  him  thither ;  and  he  said,  This 
river  has  been  a  terror  to  many  ;  yea,  the  thoughts  of  it  have  also  often 
frightened  me.  Now,  methinks  I  stand  easy ;  my  foot  is  fixed  upon 
that  on  which  the  feet  of  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
stood,  while  Israel  went  over  this  Jordan  (Josh.  3  :  17).  The  waters 
indeed  are  to  the  palate  bitter,  and  to  the  stomach  cold  ;  yet  the 
thoughts  of  what  I  am  going  to,  and  of  the  convoy  that  wait  for  me 
on  the  other  side,  lie  as  a  glowing  coal  at  my  heart.  I  see  myself 
now  at  the  end  of  my  journey  ;  my  toilsome  days  are  ended.  I  am 
going  to  see  that  head  which  was  crowned  with  thorns,  and  that  face 
which  was  spit  upon  for  me.  I  have  formerly  lived  by  hearsay  and 
faith  ;  but  now  I  go  where  I  shall  live  by  sight,  and  shall  be  with  him 
in  whose  company  I  delight  myself.  I  have  loved  to  hear  my  Lord 
spoken  of;  and  wherever  I  have  seen  the  print  of  his  shoe  in  the  earth, 
there  have  I  coveted  to  set  my  foot  too.  His  name  has  been  to  me 
as  a  civet-box;  yea,  sweeter  than  all  perfumes.  His  voice  to  me  has 
been  most  sweet;  and  his  countenance  I  have  more  desired  than  they 
that  have  most  desired  the  light  of  the  sun.  His  words  I  did  use  to 
gather  for  my  food,  and  for  antidotes  against  my  faintings.  He  has 
held  me,  and  kept  me  from  mine  iniquities ;  yea,  my  steps  have  been 
strengthened  in  his  way. 

Now,  while  he  was  thus  in  discourse,  his  countenance  changed ; 
his  strong  man  bowed  under  him ;  and,  after  he  had  said,  Take  me, 
for  I  come  unto  thee!  he  ceased  to  be  seen  of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see  how  the  upper  region  was  filled  with 
horses  and  chariots,  with  trumpters  and  pipers,  with  singers  and 
players  on  stringed  instruments,  to  welcome  the  pilgrims  as  they  went 
up,  and  followed  one  another  in  at  the  beautiful  gate  of  the  city. 

As  for  Christiana's  children,  the  four  boys  that  Christiana  brought, 
with  their  wives  and  children,  I  did  not  stay  where  I  was  till  they  were 
gone  over.  Also  since  I  came  away,  I  heard  one  say  that  they  were 
yet  alive,  and  so  would  be  for  the  increase  of  the  church  in  that  place 
where  they  were  for  a  time. 

Should  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I  may  give  those  that 
desire  it  an  account  of  what  lam  here  silent  about.  Meantime,  I  bid 
,my  reader 

Farewell. 


ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE  OF 


JOHN   BUNYAN 


OR 


GRACE     ABOUNDING     TOWARD     THE     GREATEST    OF 

SINNERS 


Written  by  Himself 


**This  is  the  most  marvellous  autobiography  ever  written." 

Macmilat. 


JOHN  BUNYAN. 


©I^e  "bife  o^  (^oRn.  Si)un^art, 


CHAPTER  I. 

N  this  my  relation  of  the  merciful  working  of  God  upon 
my  soul,  it  will  not  be  amiss  if,  in  the  first  place,  1  do,  in 
a  few  words,  give  you  a  hint  of  my  pedigree,  and  manner 
of  bringing  up  ;  that  thereby  the  goodness  and  bount)  of 
God  towards  me  may  be  the  more  advanced  and  inagni- 
:^ed  before  the  sons  of  men. 

For  my  descent  then,  it  was,  as  is  well  known  by  many,  of  a  low 
and  inconsiderable  generation  ;  my  father's  house  being  of  that  rank 
that  is  meanest  and  most  despised  of  all  the  families  in  the  land. 
Wherefore,  I  have  not  here,  as  others,  to  boast  of  noble  blood,  or  of 
any  high-born  state,  according  to  the  flesh,  though,  all  things  con- 
sidered, I  magnify  the  heavenly  Majesty,  for  that  by  this  door  he 
brought  me  into  this  world,  to  partake  of  the  grace  and  life  that  is  in 
Christ  by  the  gospel.  But  yet,  notwithstanding  the  meanness  and 
inconsiderableness  of  my  parents,  it  pleased  God  to  put  it  into  their 
hearts  to  put  me  to  school,  to  learn  me  both  to  read  and  write ;  the 
which  I  also  attained  according-  to  the  rate  of  other  men's  children  ; 
though,  to  my  shame  I  confess,  I  did  soon  lose  that  little  I  learnt, 
even  almost  utterly,  and  that  long  before  the  Lord  did  work  his  gra- 
cious work  of  conversation  upon  my  soul. 

As  for  my  own  natural  life,  for  the  time  that  I  was  without  God 
in  the  world,  it  was,  indeed,  "according  to  the  course  of  this  world," 
and  "the  spirit  that  now  worketh  in  the  children  of  disobedience  " 
(Eph.  2  :  2,  3).  It  was  my  delight  to  be  taken  captive  by  the  dtvil, 
"at  his  will"  (2  Tim.  2:  26),  being  filled  with  all  unrighteousness; 
the  which  did  also  strongly  work,  and  put  forth  itself,  both  in  my 
heart  and  life,  and  that  from  a  child,  that  I  had  but  few  equals  (espe- 
cially considering  my  years,  which  were  tender,  being  few),  both  for 
cursing,  swearing,  lying,  and  blaspheming  the  holy  name  of  God. 
Yea,  so  settled  and  rooted  was  I  in  these  things,  that  they  became  as 

(447) 


148  Life  of  Bunyan. 

a  second  nature  to  me ;  the  which,  as  I  have  also  with  soberness  con- 
sidered since,  did  so  offend  the  Lord,  that  even  in  my  childhood  he 
did  scare  and  affrighten  me  with  fearful  dreams,  and  did  terrify  me 
with  fearful  visions.  For  often,  after  I  had  spent  this  and  the  other 
da)-  in  sin,  I  have  in  my  bed  been  greatly  afflicted,  while  asleep,  with 
the  apprehensions  of  devils  and  wicked  spirits,  who  still,  as  I  then 
thought,  labored  to  draw  me  away  with  them,  of  which  I  could  never 
be  rid. 

Also,  I  should  at  these  years  be  greatly  afflicted  and  troubled 
with  the  thoughts  of  the  fearful  torments  of  hell-fire;  still  fearing  that 
it  would  be  my  lot  to  be  found  at  last  among  those  devils  and  hellish 
fiends  who  are  there  bound  down  with  the  chains  and  bonds  of  dark- 
ness, unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day.  These  things,  I  say,  when 
I  was  but  a  child,  but  nine  or  ten  years  old,  did  so  distress  my  soul, 
that  then,  in  the  midst  of  my  many  sports  and  childish  vanities,  amidst 
my  vain  companions,  I  was  often  much  cast  down  and  afflicted  in  my 
mind  therewith,  yet  could  I  not  let  go  my  sins;  yea,  I  was  also  then 
so  overcome  with  despair  of  life  and  heaven,  that  I  would  often  wish, 
either  that  there  had  been  no  hell,  or  that  I  had  been  a  devil ;  sup- 
posing they  were  only  tormentors ;  that  if  it  must  needs  be  that 
I  went  thither,  I  might  be  rather  a  tormentor  than  be  tormented 
myself. 

Awhile  after  those  terrible  dreams  did  leave  me,  which  also  I  soon 
forgot ;  for  my  pleasures  did  quickly  cut  off  the  remembrance  of  them, 
as  if  they  had  never  been  ;  wherefore,  with  more  greediness,  accord- 
ing to  the  strength  of  nature,  I  did  still  let  loose  the  reins  of  my 
lust,  and  delighted  in  all  transgressions  against  the  law  of  God  ;  so 
that  until  I  came  to  the  state  of  marriage,  I  was  the  very  ringleader 
of  all  the  youth  that  kept  me  company,  in  all  manner  of  vice  and 
ungodliness.  Yea,  such  prevalency  had  the  lusts  and  fruits  of  the 
fiesh  on  this  poor  soul  of  mine,  that,  had  not  a  miracle  of  pre- 
cious grace  prevented,  I  had  not  only  perished  by  the  stroke  of 
eternal  justice,  but  had  also  laid  myself  open,  even  to  the  stroke  of 
those  laws  which  bring  some  to  disgrace  and  open  shame  before  the 
face  of  the  world. 

In  those  days,  the  thoughts  of  religion  were  very  grievous  to 
me  ;  I  could  neither  endure  it  myself,  nor  that  any  other  should  ;  so 
that  when  I  have  seen  some  read  in  those  books  that  concerned 
Christian  piety,  it  would  be  as  it  were  a  poison  to  me.  Then  I  said 
unto  God,  Depart  from  me,  for  I  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy 


Life  of  Bimyan, 


449 


BUNYAN'S  BIRTHPLACE. 


ways  (Job  21  :  14,  15).  I  was  now  void  of  all  good  consideration  ; 
heaven  and  hell  were  both  out  of  sig-ht  and  mind  ;  and  as  for  savino- 
and  damnino-,  they  were  least  in  my  thoughts.  "  O  Lord,  thou 
knowest  my  life,  and  my  ways  were  not  hid  from  thee."  But  this 
I  well  remember,  that  though  I  could  myself  sin  with  the  greatest 
delight  and  ease,  and  also  take  pleasure  in  the  vileness  of  my  com- 
panions; yet,  even  then,  if  I  had  at  any  time  seen  wicked  things  by 
those  who  professed  goodness,  it  would  make  my  spirit  tremble. 
As,  once  above  all  the  rest,  when  I  was  in  the  height  of  vanity,  yet 
hearing-  one  to  swear  that  was  reckoned  for  a  religious  man,  it  had 
so  great  a  stroke  upon  my  spirit  that  it  had  made  my  heart  ache. 
But  God  did  not  utterly  leave  me,  but  followed  me  still,  not  with 
convictions,  but  judgments ;  but  such  as  were  mixed  with  mercy. 
For  once  I  fell  into  a  creek  of  the  sea,  and  hardly  escaped  drowning. 
Another  time  I  fell  out  of  a  boat  into  Bedford  river,  but  mercy 
yet  preserved  me  alive  ;  besides  another  time,  being  in  the  field  with 
one  of  my  companions,  it  chanced  that  an  adder  passed  over  the 
highway  ;  so  I,  having  a  stick  in  my  hand,  struck  her  over  the  back, 

29 


450 


Life  of  Bwiyan. 


and,  having  stunned  her,  I  forced  open  her  mouth  with  my  stick,  and 
plucked  her  sting  out  with  my  fingers  ;  by  which  act,  had  not  God 
been  merciful  unto  me,  I  might,  by  my  desperateness,  have  brought 
myself  to  an  end. 

This  also  I  have  taken  notice  of,  with  thanksgiving  :  When  I 
was  a  soldier,  I,  with  others,  was  drawn  out  to  go  to  such  a  place  to 
besiege  it  ;  but  when  I  was  just  ready  to  go,  one  of  the  company 
desired  to  go  in  my  room  ;  to  which,  when  I  had  consented,  he  took 
my  place ;  and,  coming  to  the  siege,  as  he  stood  sentinel,  he  was 
shot  in  the  head  with  a  musket  bullet,  and  died.  Here,  as  I  said, 
were  judgments  and  mercy,  but  neither  of  them  did  awaken  my  soul 
to  righteousness  ;  wherefore  I  sinned  still,  and  grew  more  and  more 
rebellious  against  God  and  careless  of  my  own  salvation. 


CHAPTER  II. 


RESENTLY  after  this,  I  changed  my  condition  into  a 
married  state,  and  my  mercy  was  to  light  upon  a  wife 
whose  father  was  counted  godly.  This  woman  and  I, 
though  we  came  together  as  poor  as  poor  might  be 
(not  having  so  much  household  stuff  as  a  dish  or 
spoon  betwixt  us  both),  yet  this  she  had  for  her  part,  "The  Plain 
Man's  Pathway  to  Heaven,"  and  "The  Practice  of  Piety,"  which  her 
father  had  left  her  when  he  died.  In  these  two  books  I  would  some- 
times read  with  her,  wherein  I  also  found  some  things  that  were 
somewhat  pleasing  to  me  (but  all  this  while  I  met  with  no  convic- 
tion). She  also  would  be  often  telling  of  me  what  a  godly  man  her 
father  was,  and  how  he  would  reprove  and  correct  vice,  both  in  his 
house  and  among  his  neighbors ;  what  a  strict  and  holy  life  he  lived 
in  his  days,  both  in  words  and  deeds. 

Wherefore  these  books,  with  the  relation,  though  they  did  not 
reach  my  heart,  to  awaken  it  about  my  sad  and  sinful  state,  yet  they 
did  beget  within  me  some  desires  to  reform  my  vicious  life,  and  fall 
in  very  eagerly  with  the  religion  of  the  times  ;  to  wit,  to  go  to  church 
twice  a  day,  and  that,  too,  with  the  foremost ;  and  there  would  very 
devoutly  both  say  and  sing,  as  others  did,  yet  retaining  my  wicked 
life;  but  withal,  I  was  so  overrun  with  the  spirit  of  superstition,  that 
I  adored,  and  that  with  great  devotion,  even  all  things  (both  the 
high-place,  priest,  clerk,  vestment,  service,  and  what  else)  belonging 
to  the  church  ;  counting  all  things  holy  that  were  therein  contained, 
and  especially  the  priest  and  clerk  most  happy,  and  without  doubt 
greatly  blessed,  because  they  were  the  servants,  as  I  then  thought,  of 
God,  and  were  principal  in  the  holy  temple  to  do  his  work  therein. 
This  conceit  grew  so  strong  in  a  little  time  upon  my  spirit,  that 
had  I  but  seen  a  priest,  though  never  so  sordid  and  debauched  in 
his  life,  I  should  find  my  spirit  fall  under  him,  reverence  him,  and 
knit  unto  him  ;  yea,  I  thought,  for  the  love  I  did  bear  unto  them 
(supposing  they  were  the  ministers  of  God),  I  could  have  laid  down 
at  their  feet,  and  have  been  trampled  upon  by  them ;  their  name, 
their  garb,  and  work  did  so  intoxicate  and  bewitch  me. 

(451) 


452  Life  of  Bunyan. 

After  I  had  been  thus  for  some  considerable  time,  another 
thought  came  in  my  mind ;  and  that  was,  whether  we  were  of  the 
IsraeHtes  or  no  ?  For,  finding  in  the  Scriptures  that  they  were  once 
the  pecuHar  people  of  God,  thought  I,  if  I  were  one  of  this  race,  my 
soul  must  needs  be  happy.  Now  again  I  found  within  me  a  great 
longing  to  be  resolved  about  this  question,  but  could  not  tell  how  I 
should  ;  at  last  I  asked  my  father  of  it,  who  told  me  no,  we  were  not. 
Wherefore  then  I  fell  in  my  spirit,  as  to  the  hopes  of  that,  and  so 
remained.  But  all  this  while  I  was  not  sensible  of  the  danger  and 
evil  of  sin  ;  I  was  kept  from  considering  that  sin  would  damn  me, 
what  religion  soever  I  followed,  unless  I  was  found  in  Christ.  Nay,  I 
never  thought  of  him,  nor  whether  there  was  such  a  one  or  no. 
Thus  man,  while  blind,  doth  wander,  but  wearieth  himself  with 
vanity,  for  he  knoweth  not  the  way  to  the  city  of  God  (Eccles.  lo:  15). 

But  one  day,  among  all  the  sermons  our  parson  made,  his  sub- 
ject was  to  treat  of  the  Sabbath-day,  and  of  the  evil  of  breaking  that, 
either  with  labor,  sports,  or  otherwise  (now  I  was,  notwithstanding 
my  religion,  one  that  took  much  delight  in  all  manner  of  vice,  and 
especially  that  was  the  way  that  I  did  solace  myself  therewith)  ; 
wherefore  I  fell  in  my  conscience  under  this  sermon,  thinking  and 
believing  that  he  made  that  sermon  on  purpose  to  show  me  my  evil 
doing.  And,  at  that  time,  I  felt  what  guilt  was,  though  never  before 
that  I  can  remember;  but  then  I  was,  for  the  present,  greatly  loaded 
therewith,  and  so  went  home  when  the  sermon  was  ended  with  a 
great  burden  upon  my  spirit. 

This,  for  that  instant,  did  benumb  the  sinews  of  my  best  delights, 
and  did  embitter  my  former  pleasures  to  me ;  but  behold,  it  lasted 
not;  for  before  I  had  well  dined  the  trouble  began  to  go  off  my 
mind,  and  my  heart  returned  to  its  old  course.  But,  oh!  how  glad 
was  I  that  this  trouble  was  gone  from  me ;  and  that  the  fire  was  put 
out,  that  I  might  sin  again  without  control !  Wherefore,  when  I  had 
satisfied  nature  with  my  food,  I  shook  the  sermon  out  of  my  mind, 
and  to  my  old  custom  of  sports  and  gaming  I  returned  with  great 
delight.  But,  the  same  day,  as  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  game  of  cat, 
and  having  struck  it  one  blow  from  the  hole,  just  as  I  was  about  to 
strike  it  the  second  time,  a  voice  did  suddenly  dart  from  heaven  into 
my  soul,  which  said,  Wilt  thou  leave  thy  sins  and  go  to  heaven,  or 
have  thy  sins  and  go  to  hell  ?  At  this  I  was  put  to  an  exceeding 
maze  ;  wherefore,  leaving  my  bat  upon  the  ground,  I  looked  up  to 
heaven,  and  was  as  if  I  had,  with  the  eyes  of  my  understanding,  seen 


Life  of  Btmyatt.  453 

the  Lord  Jesus  looking  down  upon  me,  as  being  very  hody  displeased 
with  me,  and  as  if  he  did  severely  threaten  me  with  some  grievous 
punishment  for  these  and  other  ungodly  practices.  I  had  no  sooner 
thus  conceived  in  my  mind,  but  suddenly  this  conclusion  was  fastened 
on  my  spirit  (for  the  former  hint  did  set  my  sins  again  before  my 
face),  that  I  had  been  a  great  and  grievous  sinner,  and  that  it  was 
now  too  late  for  me  to  look  after  heaven,  for  Christ  would  not  forgive 
nie,  nor  pardon  my  transgressions.  Then  I  fell  to  musing  on  this  also  ; 
and  while  I  was  thinking  of  it,  and  fearing  lest  it  should  be  so,  I  felt 
my  heart  sink  in  despair,  concluding  it  was  too  late;  and  therefore  I 
resolved  in  my  mind  to  go  on  in  sin ;  for,  thought  I,  if  the  case  be 
thus,  my  state  is  surely  miserable  ;  miserable  if  I  leave  my  sins, 
and  but  miserable  if  I  follow  them  ;  I  can  but  be  damned  ;  and,  if 
it  must  be  so,  I  had  as  good  be  damned  for  many  sins  as  be  damned 
for  few. 

Thus  I  stood  in  the  midst  of  my  play  before  all  that  then  were 
present;  but  yet  I  told  them  nothing;  but  I  say,  having  made  this 
conclusion,  I  returned  desperately  to  my  sport  again  ;  and  I  well 
remember,  that  presently  this  kind  of  despair  did  so  possess  my  soul, 
that  I  was  persuaded  I  could  never  attain  to  other  comforts  than  what 
I  should  get  in  sin ;  for  heaven  was  gone  already,  so  that  on  that  I 
must  not  think;  wherefore  I  found  within  me  great  desire  to  take  my 
fill  of  sin,  still  studying  what  sin  was  yet  to  be  committed,  that  I  might 
taste  the  sweetness  of  it;  and  I  made  as  much  haste  as  I  could  to  fill 
my  belly  with  its  delicacies,  lest  I  should  die  before  I  had  my  desires; 
for  that  I  feared  greatly.  In  these  things  I  protest,  before  God,  I  He 
not,  neither  do  I  frame  this  sort  of  speech ;  these  were  really,  strongly, 
and  with  all  my  heart,  my  desires;  the  good  Lord,  whose  mercy  is 
unsearchable,  forgive  my  transgressions  !  And  I  am  very  confident 
that  this  temptation  of  the  devil  is  more  usual  among  poor  creatures 
than  many  are  aware  of,  even  to  overrun  the  spirits  with  a  scurvy 
and  seared  frame  of  heart,  and  benumbing  of  conscience,  which  frame 
he  stilly  and  slyly  supplieth  with  such  despair,  that  though  not  much 
guilt  attendeth  souls,  yet  they  continually  have  a  secret  conclusion 
within  them  that  there  is  no  hope  for  them ;  for  they  have  loved  sins, 
therefore  after  them  they  will  go  (Jer.  2  :  25  ;  18  :  12). 

Now,  therefore,  I  went  on  in  sin  with  great  greediness  of  mind, 
still  grudging  that  I  could  not  be  satisfied  with  it  as  I  would.  This 
did  continue  with  me  about  a  month  or  more ;  but  one  day,  as  I  was 
standing  at  a  neighbor's  shop-window,  and  there  cursing  and  swear- 


464  Life  of  Bunyan. 

Ing,  and  playing  the  madman,  after  my  wonted  manner,  there  sat, 
within,  the  woman  of  the  house,  and  heard  me  ;  who,  though  she 
was  a  very  loose  and  ungodly  wretch,  yet  protested  that  I  swore  and 
cursed  at  that  most  fearful  rate,  that  she  was  made  to  tremble  to  hear 
me  ;  and  told  me  further,  that  I  was  the  ungodliest  fellow  for  swearing 
that  she  ever  heard  in  all  her  life  ;  and  that  I,  by  thus  doing,  was 
able  to  spoil  all  the  youth  in  the  whole  town  if  they  came  but  in  my 
company.  At  this  reproof  I  was  silent  and  put  to  secret  shame; 
and  that,  too,  as  I  thought,  before  the  God  of  heaven  ;  wherefore, 
while  I  stood  there,  and  hanging  down  my  head,  I  wished  with  all 
my  heart  that  I  might  be  a  litde  child  again,  that  my  father  might 
learn  me  to  speak  without  this  wicked  way  of  swearing  ;  for,  thought 
I,  I  am  so  accustomed  to  it,  that  it  is  in  vain  for  me  to  think  of 
reformation,  for  I  thought  that  could  never  be. 

But  how  it  came  to  pass  I  know  not,  I  did  from  this  time  for- 
ward so  leave  my  swearing,  that  it  was  a  great  wonder  to  myself  to 
observe  it ;  and  whereas  before  I  knew  not  how  to  speak  unless  I  put 
an  oath  before  and  another  behind,  to  make  my  words  have  author- 
ity, now  I  could,  without  it,  speak  better,  and  with  more  pleasantness 
than  ever  I  could  before.  AH  this  while  I  knew  not  Jesus  Christ, 
neither  did  I  leave  my  sports  and  plays.  But  quickly  after  this  I  fell 
into  company  with  one  poor  man  that  made  profession  of  religion, 
who,  as  I  then  thought,  did  talk  pleasantly  of  the  Scriptures,  and  of 
the  matter  of  religion  ;  wherefore,  falling  into  some  love  and  liking 
to  what  he  said,  I  betook  me  to  my  Bible,  and  began  to  take  great 
pleasure  in  reading,  but  especially  with  the  historical  part  thereof; 
for,  as  for  Paul's  Epistles  and  such  like  scriptures,  I  could  not  away 
with  them,  being  as  yet  ignorant  either  of  the  corruption  of  my  nature 
or  of  the  want  and  worth  of  Jesus  Christ  to  save  us.  Wherefore  I 
fell  to  some  outward  reformation,  both  in  my  words  and  life,  and  did 
set  the  commandments  before  me  for  my  way  to  heaven  ;  which 
commandments  I  also  did  strive  to  keep,  and,  as  I  thought,  did  keep 
them  pretty  well  sometimes,  and  then  I  should  have  comfort ;  yet  now 
and  then  should  break  one,  and  so  afflict  my  conscience  ;  but  then  I 
would  repent,  and  say  I  was  sorry  for  it,  and  promise  God  to  do 
better  next  time,  and  there  got  help  again  :  for  then  I  thought  I 
pleased  God  as  well  as  any  man  in  England. 

Thus  I  continued  about  a  year  ;  all  which  time  our  neighbors  did 
take  me  to  be  a  very  godly  man,  a  new  and  religious  man,  and  did 
marvel  rr« ch  to  see  such  great  and  famous  alteration  in  my  life  and 


Life  of  Bunyan. 


455 


manners  ;  and  indeed  so  it  was,  though  I  knew  not  Christ,  nor  grace, 
nor  faith,  nor  hope ;  for,  as  I  have  well  since  seen,  had  I  then  died, 
my  state  had  been  most  fearful.  But  I  say  my  neighbors  were 
amazed  at  this  my  great  conversion  from  prodigious  profaneness  to 
something  like  a  moral  life;  and,  truly,  so  they  well  might;  for  this 
my  conversion  was  as  great  as  for  Tom  of  Bedlam  to  become  a  sober 
man.  Now,  therefore,  they  began  to  praise,  to  commend,  and  to 
speak  well  of  me,  both  to  my  face  and  behind  my  back.  Now  I  was, 
as  they  said,  become  godly;  now  I  was  become  a  right  honest  man. 
But,  oh !  when  I  understood  those  were  their  words  and  opinions  of 
me,  it  pleased  me  mighty  well ;  for  though  as  yet  I  was  nothing  but 
a  poor  painted  hypocrite,  yet  I  liked  to  be  talked  of  as  one  that  was 
truly  godly.  I  was  proud  of  my  godliness;  and,  indeed,  I  did  all  I 
did  either  to  be  seen  of,  or  to  be  well  spoken  of,  by  men  ;  and  thus 
I  continued  for  about  a  twelvemonth  or  more. 


CHAPTER  III. 


OW,  you  must  know,  that  before  this  I  had  taken  much  de- 
Hght  in  ringing,  but  my  conscience  beginning  to  be  tender, 
I  thought  such  practice  was  but  vain,  and  therefore  forced 
myself  to  Jeave  it ;  yet  my  mind  hankered ;  wherefore  I 
would  go  to  the  steeple-house  and  look  on,  though  I  durst 
not  ring  ;  but  I  thought  this  did  not  become  religion  neither ;  yet  I 
forced  myself  and  would  look  on  still  ;  but  quickly  after  I  began  to 
think,  how  if  one  of  thp:  bells  should  fall  ?  Then  I  chose  to  stand 
under  a  main  beam  th^t  lay  over-thwart  the  steeple,  from  side  to 
side,  thinking  here  I  might  sf^and  sure  ;  but  then  I  thought  again,  should 
the  bell  fall  with  a  swing,  it  might  first  hit  the  wall  and  then,  rebound- 
ing upon  me,  might  kill  me  for  all  this  beam.  This  made  me  stand 
in  the  steeple-door ;  and  no»v,  thought  I,  I  am  safe  enough ;  for  if  the 
bell  should  then  fall,  I  can  si*p  out  behind  these  thick  walls,  and  ?>o 
be  preserved  notwithstanding. 

So,  after  this,  I  would  yet  go  to  see  them  ring,  but  would  not  go 
any  further  than  the  steeple-d-oor;  but  then  it  came  into  my  head, 
how  if  the  steeple  itself  should  fa'l  ?  And  this  thought  (it  may  be,  for 
aught  I  know,  when  I  stood  and  hoked  on)  did  continually  so  shake 
my  mind,  that  I  durst  not  stand  a.C  the  steeple-door  any  longer,  bu*" 
was  forced  to  flee,  for  fear  the  steeplr*  should  fall  upon  my  head. 

Another  thing  was  my  dancing.  I  was  full  a  year  before  I  could 
quite  leave  that.  But  all  this  while,  'W^hen  I  thought  I  kept  this  or 
that  command,  or  did,  by  word  or  dec^d,  any  thing  I  thought  wa.* 
good,  I  had  great  peace  in  conscience,  and  would  think  with  myself, 
God  cannot  chose  but  be  now  pleased  witJ^  me ;  yea,  to  relate  it  in 
my  own  way,  I  thought  no  man  in  England  could  please  God  bette* 
than  I.  But,  poor  wretch  as  I  was,  I  was  all  th's  while  ignorant  oi 
Jesus  Christ,  and  going  about  to  establish  my  ovn  righteousness, 
and  had  perished  therein,  had  not  God,  in  mercy,  si^owed  me  more 
of  my  state  by  nature.  But  upon  a  day  the  good  providence  of  God 
called  me  to  Bedford,  to  work  at  my  calling;  and  in  one  of  the 
streets  of  that  town,  I  came  where  there  were  three  or  four  poor 
women  sitting  at  a  door,  in  the  sun,  talking  about  the  things  of  God; 
and  being  now  willing  to  hear  their  discourse,  I  drew  nes'r  to  heal 

(456) 


Life  of  Btmyan. 


457 


what  they  said,  for  I  was  now  a  brisk  talker  of  myself  in  the  matters 
of  religion;  but  I  may  say  I  heard,  but  understood  not,  for  they  were 
far  above  out  of  my  reach.  Their  talk  was  about  a  new  birth,  the 
work  of  God  in  their  hearts,  as  also  of  how  they  were  convinced  of 
their  miserable  state  by  nature  ;  they  talked  how  God  had  visited  their 
souls  with  his  love  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  with  what  words  and 
promises  they  had  been  refreshed,  comforted  and  supported  against 
the  temptations  of 
the  devil  ;  moreover, 
they  reasoned  of 
the  suggestions  and 
temptations  of  Satan 
in  particular ;  and 
told  to  each  other 
by  what  means  they 
had  been  afflicted, 
and  how  they  were 
borne  up  under  his 
assaults.  They  also 
discoursed  of  their 
own  wretchedness  of 
heart  and  of  their  un- 
belief, and  did  con- 
demn, slight  and  ab- 
hor their  own  riofht- 
eousness  as  filthy, 
and  insufficient  to  do 
them  any  good. 
And  methought  they 
spake  as  if  joy  did 
make  them  speak  ; 
they  spake  with 
such  pleasantness  of  bunyan  listening  to  the  women  of  Bedford 
Scripture   language, 

and  with  such  an  appearance  of  grace  in  all  they  said,  that  they 
were  to  me  as  if  they  had  found  a  new  world  ;  as  if  they  were 
people  that  dwelt  alone,  and  were  not  to  be  reckoned  among  their 
neighbors  (Numb.  33:  9).  At  this  I  felt  my  own  heart  began  to 
shake,  and  mistrust  my  condition  to  be  naught ;  for  I  saw  that  in  all 
my  thoughts  about  religion  and  salvation,  the  new  birth  did  never 


458  Life  of  Bimyan. 

enter  my  mind ;  neither  knew  I  the  comfort  of  the  word  and 
promise,  nor  the  deceitfulness  and  treachery  of  my  own  wicked 
heart.  As  for  the  secret  thoughts,  I  took  no  notice  of  them ; 
neither  did  I  understand  what  Satan's  temptations  were,  nor  how 
they  were  to  be  withstood  and  resisted,  etc. 

Thus,  therefore,  when  I  had  heard  and  considered  what  they 
said,  I  left  them  and  went  about  my  employment  again,  but  their  talk 
and  discourse  went  with  me;  also  my  heart  would  tarry  with  them, 
for  I  was  greatly  affected  with  their  words,  both  because  by  them  I 
was  convinced  I  wanted  the  true  tokens  of  a  godly  man,  and  also 
because  of  them  I  was  convinced  of  the  happy  and  blessed  condition 
of  him  that  was  such  a  one. 

Therefore  I  would  often  make  it  my  business  to  be  going  again 
and  again  into  the  company  of  these  good  people  ;  for  I  could  not 
stay  away  ;  and  the  more  I  went  among  them  the  more  I  did  question 
my  condition  ;  and  as  I  still  do  remember,  presently  I  found  two 
things  within  me,  at  which  I  did  sometimes  marvel  (especially  con- 
sidering what  a  blind,  ignorant,  sordid,  and  ungodly  wretch  but  just 
before  I  was).  The  one  was  a  very  great  softness  and  tenderness 
of  heart,  which  caused  me  to  fall  under  the  conviction  of  what  by 
Scripture  they  asserted ;  and  the  other  was  a  great  bending  in  my 
mind,  to  a  continual  meditating  on  it,  and  on  all  other  good 
things  which  at  any  time  I  heard  or  read  of  By  these  things  my 
mind  was  now  so  turned,  that  it  lay  like  a  horse-leech  at  the  vein, 
still  crying  out,  Give,  give  (Prov.  30:  15);  which  was  so  fixed  on 
eternity,  and  on  the  things  about  the  kingdom  of  heaven  (that  is,  so 
far  as  I  knew,  though  as  yet,  God  knows,  I  knew  but  little),  that 
neither  pleasures,  nor  profits,  nor  persuasions,  nor  threats  could  loose 
it,  or  make  it  let  go  its  hold  ;  and  though  I  may  speak  it  with  shame, 
yet  it  is  in  very  deed  a  certain  truth,  it  would  then  have  been  as  dif- 
ficult for  me  to  have  taken  my  mind  from  heaven  to  earth,  as  I  have 
found  it  often  since  to  get  it  again  from  earth  to  heaven. 

One  thing  I  may  not  omit :  there  was  a  young  man  in  our  town 
to  whom  my  heart  was  knit  more  than  any  other  ;  but,  he  being 
a  most  wicked  creature  for  cursing  and  swearing  and  unclean-' 
ness,  I  now  shook  him  off  and  forsook  his  company  ;  but  aboui  a 
quarter  of  a  year  after  I  had  left  him,  I  met  him  in  a  certain  lane,  and 
asked  him  how  he  did.  He,  after  his  old  swearing  and  mad  way, 
answered  he  was  well.  "But  Harry,"  said  I,  *'why  do  you  curse  and 
swear  thus?     What  will  become  of  you  if  you  die  in  this  condition?" 


Life  of  Btmyan.  459 

He  answered  me  in  great  chafe,  "What  would  the  devil  do  for  com- 
pany, if  it  were  not  for  such  as  I  am  ?" 

About  this  time  I  met  with  some  Ranters'  books,  that  were  put 
forth  by  some  of  our  countrymen,  which  books  were  also  highly  in 
esteem  by  several  old  professors.  Some  of  these  I  read,  but  was  not 
able  to  make  any  judgment  about  them  ;  wherefore,  as  I  read  in  them 
and  thought  upon  them,  seeing  myself  unable  to  judge,  I  would  be- 
take myself  to  a  hearty  prayer  in  this  manner  :  "  O  Lord,  I  am  a  fool, 
and  not  able  to  know  the  truth  from  error !  Lord,  leave  me  not  to 
my  own  blindness,  either  to  approve  of  or  condemn  that  doctrine  ;  if 
it  be  of  God,  let  me  not  despise  it;  if  it  be  of  the  devil,  let  me  not 
embrace  it !  Lord,  I  lay  my  soul  in  this  matter  only  at  thy  foot ;  let 
me  not  be  deceived,  I  humbly  beseech  thee!"  I  had  one  religious 
companion  all  this  while,  and  that  was  the  poor  man  I  spoke  of 
before ;  but  about  this  time  he  also  turned  a  most  devilish  Ranter, 
and  gave  himself  up  to  all  manner  of  filthiness,  especially  uncleanness ; 
he  would  also  deny  that  there  was  a  God,  angel,  or  spirit,  and  would 
laugh  at  all  exhortations  to  sobriety.  When  I  labored  to  rebuke  his 
wickedness,  he  would  laugh  the  more,  and  pretend  he  had  gone 
through  all  religions,  and  could  never  hit  upon  the  right  till  now. 
He  told  me  also  that  in  little  time  I  should  see  all  professors  turn  to 
'he  ways  of  the  Ranters. 

Wherefore,  abominating  those  cursed  principles,  I  left  his  com- 
pany forthwith,  and  became  to  him  as  great  a  stranger  as  I  had  been 
before  a  familiar.  Neither  was  this  man  only  a  temptation  to  me  ; 
but  my  calling  lying  in  the  country,  I  happened  to  come  into  several 
people's  company,  who,  though  strict  in  religion  formerly,  yet  were 
also  drawn  away  by  these  Ranters.  These  would  also  talk  with  me 
of  their  ways,  and  condemn  me  as  legal  and  dark,  pretending  that 
they  only  had  attained  to  perfection  ;  that  they  could  do  what  they 
would,  and  not  sin.  Oh  !  these  temptations  were  suitable  to  my  flesh, 
I  being  but  a  young  man,  and  my  nature  in  its  prime  ;  but  God,  who 
had,  as  I  hoped,  designed  me  for  better  things,  kept  me  in  the  fear 
of  his  name,  and  did  not  suffer  me  to  accept  such  cursed  principles. 
And,  blessed  be  God,  who  put  it  into  my  heart  to  cry  to  him  to  be 
kept  and  directed,  still  distrusting  my  own  wisdom  ;  for  I  have  since 
seen  even  the  effect  of  that  prayer,  in  his  preserving  me,  not  only 
from  Ranting  errors,  but  from  those  also  that  have  sprung  up  since. 
The  Bible  was  precious  to  m--  '\\\  r'ose  days. 

And  now,  methought,  1  '   ■       •       look   into  the  Bible  with  new 


460  Life  of  Bunyan. 

eyes,  and  read  as  I  never  did  before,  and  especially  the  Epistles  of 
the  Apostle  St.  Paul  were  sweet  and  pleasant  to  me;  and,  indeed, 
then  I  was  never  out  of  the  Bible,  either  by  reading  or  meditation  ; 
still  crying  out  to  God,  that  I  might  know  the  truth  and  way  to  heaven 
and  glory.  And,  as  I  went  on  and  read,  I  hit  upon  that  passage, 
''  To  one  is  given  by  the  Spirit  the  word  of  wisdom  ;  to  another  the 
word  of  knowledge  by  the  same  Spirit ;  to  another,  faith  "  (i  Cor. 
12:  8,  9).  And  though,  as  I  have  since  seen,  that  by  this  Scripture 
the  Holy  Ghost  intends  in  special,  things  extraordinary,  yet  on  me  it 
did  then  fasten  with  conviction,  that  I  did  want  things  ordinary,  even 
that  understanding  and  wisdom  that  other  Christians  had.  On  this 
word  I  mused,  and  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  especially  this  word 
(Faith)  put  me  to  it;  for  I  could  not  help  it,  but  sometimes  must 
question,  whether  I  had  any  faith  or  no ;  but  I  was  loath  to  conclude 
I  had  no  faith  ;  for  if  I  do  so,  thought  I,  then  I  shall  count  myself  a 
very  castaway  indeed.  No,  said  I,  with  myself,  though  I  am  con- 
vinced that  I  am  an  ignorant  sot,  and  that  I  want  those  blessed  gifts 
of  knowledge  and  understanding  that  other  people  have  ;  yet,  at  a 
venture,  I  will  conclude,  I  am  not  altogether  faithless,  though  I  know 
not  what  faith  is  ;  for  it  was  shown  me,  and  that  too  (as  I  have  seen 
since)  by  Satan,  that  those  who  conclude  themselves  in  a  faithless 
state,  have  neither  rest  nor  quiet  in  their  souls  ;  and  I  was  loath  to 
fall  quite  into  despair. 

Wherefore  by  this  suggestion  I  was  for  a  while  made  to  see  my 
want  of  faith  ;  but  God  would  not  suffer  me  thus  to  undo  and  de- 
stroy my  soul,  but  did  continually  against  this  my  sad  and  blind  con- 
clusion create  still  within  me  such  suppositions,  insomuch  that  I  could 
not  rest  content  until  I  did  now  come  to  some  certain  knowledge 
whether  I  had  faith  or  no,  this  always  running  in  my  mind.  But  how 
if  you  want  faith  indeed  ?  But  how  can  you  tell  you  have  faith  ? 
And,  besides,  I  saw  for  certain,  if  I  had  not,  I  was  sure  to  perish  for 
ever.  So  that  thougfh  I  endeavored  at  the  first  to  look  over  the  busi- 
ness  of  faith,  yet  in  a  litde  time,  I  better  considermg  the  matter,  was 
willing  to  put  myself  upon  a  trial  whether  I  had  faith  or  no.  But, 
alas  !  poor  wretch,  so  ignorant  and  brutish  was  I,  that  I  know  not 
to  this  day  no  more  how  to  do  it,  than  I  know  how  to  begin  and 
accomplish  that  rare  and  curious  piece  of  art  which  I  never  yet  saw 
or  considered. 

Wherefore,  while  I  was  thus  considering,  and  being  put  to  a 
plunge  about  it  (for  you  must  know,  that  as  yet  I  had  not  in  this 


Life  of  Bunyan.  461 

matter  broken  my  mind  to  any  one,  only  did  hear  and  consider),  the 
tempter  came  in  with  this  delusion,  That  there  was  no  way  for  me  to 
know  I  had  faith  but  by  trying  to  work  some  miracles  ;  urging  those 
scriptures  that  seem  to  look  that  way,  for  the  enforcing  and  strength- 
ening his  temptation.  Nay,  one  day,  as  I  was  between  Elstow  and 
Bedford,  the  temptation  was  hot  upon  me  to  try  if  I  had  faith  by 
doing  some  miracle,  which  miracle  at  this  time  was  this :  I  must  say 
to  the  puddles  that  were  in  the  horse-ponds.  Be  dry ;  and  to  the  dry 
places,  Be  ye  puddles.  And  truly  one  time  I  was  going  to  say  so 
indeed  ;  but  just  as  I  was  about  to  speak,  this  thought  came  into  my 
mind,  But  go,  under  yonder  hedge,  and  pray  first,  that  God  would 
make  you  able.  But  when  I  had  concluded  to  pray,  this  came  hot 
upon  me,  that  if  I  prayed,  and  came  again,  and  tried  to  do  it,  and  yet 
did  nothing  notwithstanding,  then  to  be  sure  I  had  no  faith,  but  was  a 
castaway,  and  lost ;  nay,  thought  I,  if  it  be  so,  I  will  not  try  yet,  but 
will  stay  a  little  longer.  So  I  continued  at  a  great  loss  ;  for  I  thought 
if  they  only  had  faith  which  could  do  so  wonderful  things,  then  I  con- 
cluded, that  for  the  present  I  neither  had  it,  nor  yet  for  the  time  to 
come  was  ever  likely  to  have  it.  Thus  I  was  tossed  betwixt  the  devil 
and  my  own  ignorance,  and  so  perplexed,  especially  at  some  time, 
that  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BOUT  this  time,  the  state  and  happiness  of  these  poor 
people  at  Bedford  was  thus,  in  a  kind  of  a  vision,  pre- 
sented to  me  :  I  saw  as  if  they  were  on  the  sunny  side 
of  some  high  mountain,  there  refreshing  themselves  with 
the  pleasant  beams  of  the  sun,  while  I  was  shivering 
and  shrinking  in  the  cold,  afflicted  with  frost,  snow,  and  dark  clouds. 
Methought,  also,  betwixt  me  and  them  I  saw  a  wall  that  my  soul  did 
greatly  desire  to  pass,  concluding,  that  if  I  could,  I  would  even  go  into 
the  very  midst  of  them,  and  therefore  also  comfort  myself  with  the 
heat  of  their  sun.  About  this  wall  I  bethought  myself  to  go  again  and 
again,  still  praying  as  I  went,  to  see  if  I  could  find  some  way  or  passage 
by  which  I  might  enter  therein  ;  but  none  could  I  find  for  some  time. 
At  the  last  I  saw,  as  it  were,  a  narrow  gap,  like  a  little  doorway,  in 
the  wall,  through  which  I  attempted  to  pass.  Now,  the  passage  being 
very  straight  and  narrow,  I  made  many  efforts  to  get  in,  but  all  in  vain, 
even  until  I  was  well  nigh  quite  beat  out,  by  striving  to  get  in  ;  at 
last,  with  great  striving,  methought  I  at  first  did  get  in  my  head,  and 
after  that,  by  a  sideling  striving,  my  shoulders,  and  my  whole  body  ; 
then  I  was  exceeding  glad,  and  went  and  sat  down  in  the  midst  of 
them,  and  so  was  comforted  with  the  light  and  heat  of  their  sun. 

Now,  this  mountain  and  wall,  etc.,  were  thus  made  out  to  me. 
The  mountain  signified  the  church  of  the  living  God ;  the  sun  that 
shone  thereon,  the  comfortable  shining  of  His  merciful  face  on  them 
that  were  therein.  The  wall  I  thought  was  the  world,  and  did  make 
separation  between  the  Christians  and  the  world  ;  and  the  gap  which 
was  in  the  wall,  I  thought  was  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  the  way  to  God 
the  Father  (John  14:  6;  Matt.  7:  14).  But,  forasmuch  as  the 
passage  was  wonderful  narrow,  even  so  narrow  that  I  could  not  but 
with  great  difficulty  enter  in  thereat,  it  showed  me  that  none  could 
enter  into  life  but  those  that  were  in  downright  earnest,  and  unless 
also  they  left  that  wicked  world  behind  them,  for  there  was 
'only  room  for  body  and  soul,  but  not  for  body,  and  soul,  and 
sin.  This  resemblance  abode  upon  my  spirit  many  days ;  all  which 
time  I  saw  myself  in  a  forlorn  and  sad  condition,  but  yet  was 
provoked   to   a  vehement    hunger   and   desire   to  be   one   of  that 

(462) 


Life  of  Bunyan.  468 

number  that  did  sit  in  the  sunshine.  Now  also  would  I  pray  wherever 
I  was,  whether  at  home  or  abroad,  in  house  or  field  ;  and  would  also 
often,  with  lifting  up  of  heart,  sing  that  of  the  fifty-first  Psalm,  "  O 
Lord,  consider  my  distress  ; "  for  as  yet  I  knew  not  where  I  was. 
Neither  as  yet  could  I  attain  to  any  comfortable  persuasion  that  I  had 
faith  in  Christ ;  but  instead  of  having  satisfaction  here,  I  began  to  find 
my  soul  to  be  assaulted  with  fresh  doubts  about  my  future  happiness  ; 
especially  with  such  as  these,  whether  I  was  elected  ?  But  how  if 
the  day  of  grace  should  be  past  and  gone  ? 

By  these  two  temptations,  I  was  very  much  afflicted  and  disquited; 
sometimes  by  one,  and  sometimes  by  the  other  of  them.  And  first, 
to  speak  of  that  about  my  questioning  my  election,  I  found  at  this 
time,  that  though  I  was  in  a  flame  to  find  the  way  to  heaven  and 
glory,  and  though  nothing  could  beat  me  off  from  this,  yet  this  ques- 
tion did  so  offend  and  discourage  me,  that  I  was,  especially  some- 
times, as  if  the  very  strength  of  my  body  also  had  been  taken  away 
by  the  force  and  power  thereof. 

This  scripture  did  also  seem  to  me  to  trample  upon  all  my 
desires:  "It  is  not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him  that  runneth;  but 
of  God  that  showeth  mercy"  (Rom.  9 :  16).  With  this  scripture 
I  could  not  tell  what  to  do  ;  for  I  evidently  saw,  unless  that  the  great 
God,  of  his  infinite  grace  and  bounty,  had  voluntarily  chosen  me  to 
be  a  vessel  of  mercy,  though  I  should  desire,  and  long,  and  labor 
until  my  heart  did  break,  no  good  could  come  of  it.  Therefore  this 
would  stick  with  me  :  How  can  you  tell  you  are  elected  ?  And  what 
if  you  should  not?  How  then?  O  Lord,  thought  I,  what  if  I  should 
not  indeed?  It  may  be  that  you  are  not,  said  the  tempter.  It  may  be 
so  indeed,  thought  I.  Why  then,  said  Satan,  you  had  as  good  leave 
off,  and  strive  no  further;  for  if,  indeed,  you  should  not  be  elected 
and  chosen  of  God,  there  is  no  hope  of  your  being  saved:  "It  is 
not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him  that  runneth ;  but  of  God  that 
showeth  mercy."  By  these  things  I  was  driven  to  my  wits'  end, 
not  knowing  what  to  say,  or  how  to  answer  these  temptations. 
Indeed,  I  litde  thought  that  Satan  had  thus  assaulted  me,  but  that 
rather  it  was  my  own  prudence  thus  to  start  the  question;  for  that 
the  elect  only  obtained  eternal  life,  that  I  without  scruple  did  heartily 
close  withal ;  but  that  myself  was  one  of  them,  there  lay  the 
question. 

Thus,  therefore,  for  several  days  I  was  greatly  assaulted  and 
perplexed,  and  was  often,  when  I  had  been  walking,  ready  to  sink 


464  Life  of  Bunyan. 

where  I  went,  with  faintness  in  my  mind;  but  one  day,  after  I  had 
been  so  many  weeks  oppressed  and  cast  down  therewith,  as  I  was 
now  quite  giving  up  the  ghost  of  all  my  hopes  of  ever  attaining  life, 
that  sentence  fell  with  weight  upon  my  spirit  :  Look  at  the  genera- 
tions of  old,  and  see ;  did  ever  any  trust  in  God  and  were  con- 
founded ?  At  which  I  was  greatly  enlightened  and  encouraged  in 
my  soul ;  for  thus,  at  that  very  instant,  it  was  expounded  to  me : 
Begin  at  the  beginning  of  Genesis,  and  read  to  the  end  of  Revela- 
tion, and  see  if  you  can  find  that  there  was  ever  any  that  trusted 
in  the  Lord  and  was  confounded.  At  which  I  was  greatly  enlight- 
ened, and  encouraged  in  my  soul  ;  for  thus,  at  that  very  instant,  it 
was  expounded  to  me:  Begin  at  the  beginning  of  Genesis,  and  read 
to  the  end  of  Revelation,  and  see  if  you  can  find  that  there  was  ever 
any  that  trusted  in  the  Lord,  and  was  confounded.  So,  coming  home, 
I  presently  went  to  my  Bible,  to  see  if  I  could  find  that  saying,  not 
doubting  but  to  find  it  presently ;  for  it  was  so  fresh,  and  with  such 
strength  and  comfort  on  my  spirit,  that  it  was  as  if  it  talked  with  me. 
Well,  I  looked,  but  found  it  not ;  only  it  abode  upon  me.  Then 
did  I  ask  first  this  good  man,  and  then  another,  if  they  knew  where 
it  was,  but  they  knew  no  such  place.  At  this  I  wondered,  that  such 
a  sentence  should  so  suddenly,  and  with  such  comfort  and  strength, 
seize  and  abide  upon  my  heart,  and  yet  that  none  could  find  it  (for  I 
doubted  not  but  that  it  was  in  the  Holy  Scriptures). 

Thus  I  continued  above  a  year,  and  could  not  find  the  place ; 
but  at  last,  casting  my  eye  upon  the  Apocryphal  books,  I  found  it 
in  Ecclesiasticus  (2  :  16).  This,  at  the  first,  did  somewhat  daunt  me  ; 
but  because  by  this  time  I  had  got  more  experience  of  the  love 
and  kindness  of  God,  it  troubled  me  the  less,  especially  when  I  con- 
sidered that  though  it  was  not  in  those  texts  that  we  call  holy  and 
canonical  ;  yet,  forasmuch  as  this  sentence  was  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  many  of  the  promises,  it  was  my  duty  to  take  the  com- 
fort of  it ;  and  I  bless  God  for  that  word,  for  it  was  of  good  to  me  ; 
that  word  doth  still  ofttimes  shine  before  my  face. 

After  this,  that  other  doubt  did  come  with  strength  upon  me : 
But  hov/  if  the  day  of  grace  should  be  past  and  gone  ?  How  if  you 
have  overstood  the  time  of  mercy?  Now  I  remember  that  oncj 
day,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  country,  I  was  much  in  the  thoughts  of| 
this:  But  how  if  the  day  of  grace  is  past!  And,  to  aggravate  my 
trouble,  the  tempter  presented  to  my  mind  the  good  people  of  Bed- 
ford,  and  suggested    thus  unto  me  :    that  these,  being  converted 


Life  of  Bunyan,  465 

already,  they  were  all  that  God  would  save  in  those  parts  ;  and  that 
I  came  too  late,  for  these  had  got  the  blessing  before  I  came.  Now 
was  I  in  great  distress,  thinking  in  very  deed  that  this  might  well  be 
so  ;  wherefore  I  went  up  and  down,  bemoaning  my  sad  condition  ; 
counting  myself  far  worse  off  than  a  thousand  fools,  for  standing  off 
thus  long,  and  spending  so  many  years  in  sin  as  I  had  done  ;  still 
crying  out,  Oh  !  that  I  had  turned  sooner!  Oh!  that  I  had  turned) 
seven  years  ago  !  It  made  me  also  angry  with  myself,  to  think  that 
I  should  have  no  more  wit,  but  to  trifle  away  my  time,  till  my  soul 
and  heaven  were  lost. 

But  when  I  had  been  long  vexed  with  this  fear,  and  was  scarce 
able  to  take  one  step  more,  just  about  the  same  place  where  I 
received  my  other  encouragement,  these  words  broke  in  upon  my 
mind,  "  Compel  them  to  come  in,  that  my  house  may  be  filled;  and 
yet  there  is  room"  (Luke  14:  22,  23).  These  words,  but  especially 
those,  "  and  yet  there  is  room,"  were  sweet  words  to  me  ;  for  truly 
I  thought  that  by  them  I  saw  there  was  place  enough  in  heaven  for 
me  ;  and,  moreover,  that  when  the  Lord  Jesus  did  speak  these  words, 
he  then  did  think  of  me ;  and  that  he  then,  knowing  that  the  time 
would  come  that  I  should  be  afflicted  with  fear,  that  there  was  no 
place  left  for  me  in  his  bosom,  did  before  speak  this  word,  and 
leave  it  upon  record,  that  I  might  find  help  thereby  against  this  vile 
temptation.  This  I  then  verily  believed.  In  the  light  and  encour- 
agement of  this  word  I  went  a  pretty  while  ;  and  the  comfort  was 
the  more,  when  I  thought  that  the  Lord  Jesus  should  think  on  me 
so  long  ago,  and  that  he  should  speak  those  words  on  purpose  for 
my  sake  ;  for  I  did  think  verily,  that  he  did  on  purpose  speak  them 
to  encourage  me  withal. 

But  I  was  not  without  my  temptations  to  go  back  again  ;  temp- 
tations, I  say,  both  from  Satan,  mine  own  heart,  and  carnal  acquaint- 
ance ;  but,  I  thank  God,  these  were  outweighed  by  that  sound  sense 
of  death,  and  of  the  day  of  judgment,  which  abode,  as  it  were,  con- 
tinually in  my  view ;  I  would  often  also  think  on  Nebuchadnezzar, 
of  whom  it  was  said,  he  had  given  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 
(Dan.  5:  18,  19).  Yet,  thought  I,  if  this  great  man  had  all  his  por- 
tion in  this  world,  one  hour  in  hell-fire  would  make  him  forget  all ; 
which  consideration  was  a  great  help  to  me.  I  was  almost  made, 
about  this  time,  to  see  something  concerning  the  beasts  that  Moses 
counted  clean  and  unclean.  I  thought  those  beasts  were  types  of 
men ;  the  clean,  types  of  them  that  were  people  of  God  ;  but  the 

80 


466  Life  of  Bunyan. 

unclean,  types  of  such  as  were  the  children  of  the  wicked  one. 
Now  I  read  that  the  clean  beast  chewed  the  cud  ;  that  is,  thought  I, 
they  show  us  we  must  feed  upon  the  word  of  God  ;  they  also  parted 
the  hoof;  I  thought  that  signified  we  must  part,  if  we  would  be 
saved,  with  the  ways  of  ungodly  men. 

And  also,  in  further  reading  about  them,  found,  that  though  we 
,did  chew  the  cud,  as  the  hare,  yet  if  we  walked  with  claws  like  a  dog  ; 
or,  if  we  did  part  the  hoof,  like  the  swine,  yet  if  we  did  not  chew  the 
cud,  as  the  sheep,  we  are  still,  for  all  that,  but  unclean  ;  for  I  thought 
the  hare  to  be  a  type  of  those  that  talk  of  the  word,  yet  walk  in  the  ways 
of  sin ;  and  that  the  swine  was  like  him  that  parted  with  his  outward 
pollution,  but  still  wanted  the  word  of  faith,  without  which  there  would 
be  no  way  of  salvation,  let  a  man  be  ever  so  devout  (Deut.  14). 
After  this  I  found,  by  reading  the  word,  that  those  that  must  be 
glorified  with  Christ  in  another  world,  must  be  called  by  him  here ; 
called  to  the  partaking  of  a  share  in  his  word  and  righteousness,  and 
to  the  comforts  and  first-fruits  of  his  Spirit ;  and  to  a  peculiar  interest 
in  all  those  heavenly  things  which  do  indeed  prepare  the  soul  for  that 
rest  and  house  of  glory  which  is  in  heaven  above. 

Here  again  I  was  at  a  very  great  stand,  not  knowing  what  to  do, 
fearing  I  was  not  called;  for,  thought  I,  if  I  be  not  called,  what  then 
can  do  me  good  ?  None  but  those  who  are  effectually  called,  in- 
herit the  kingdom  of  heaven.  But  oh  !  how  I  now  loved  those  words 
that  spake  of  a  Christian's  calling!  as  when  the  Lord  said  to  one, 
Follow  me ;  and  to  another.  Come  after  me  ;  and  oh  !  thought  I,  that 
he  would  say  so  to  me  too  ;  how  gladly  would  I  run  after  him  !  I 
cannot  now  express  with  what  longings  and  breathings  in  my  soul 
I  cried  to  Christ  to  call  me. 

Thus  I  continued  for  a  time,  all  on  a  flame  to  be  converted  to 
Jesus  Christ;  and  did  also  see  at  that  day  such  glory  in  a  converted 
state  that  I  could  not  be  contented  without  a  share  therein.  Gold, 
could  it  have  been  gotten  for  gold,  what  would  I  have  given  for  it! 
Had  I  a  whole  world,  it  had  all  gone  ten  thousand  times  over  for  this, 
that  my  soul  might  have  been  in  a  converted  state.  How  lovely  now 
was  every  one  in  my  eyes  that  I  thought  to  be  converted  men  and 
women  !  They  shone,  they  walked  like  a  people  that  carried  the 
broad  seal  of  heaven  about  them.  Oh !  I  saw  the  lot  was  fallen 
to  them  in  pleasant  places,  and  they  had  a  goodly  heritage  (Psalm  16  : 
6).  But  that  which  made  me  sick,  was  that  of  Christ  in  St.  Mark; 
''He  went  up  into  a  mountain,  and  called  to  him  whom  he  would,  and 


Life  of  Bunyan.  467 

they  came  unto  him"  (Mark  3  :  13).  This  scripture  made  me  faint 
and  fear,  yet  it  kindled  fire  in  my  soul.  That  which  made  me  fear  was 
this,  lest  Christ  should  have  no  liking  to  me,  for  he  called  whom  he 
would.  But  oh!  the  glory  that  I  saw  in  that  condition  did  still  so  en- 
gage my  heart,  that  I  could  seldom  read  of  any  that  Christ  did  call,  but 
I  presently  wished,  would  I  had  been  in  their  clothes!  would  I  had 
been  born  Peter !  would  I  had  been  born  John  !  or,  would  I  had  been 
by  and  heard  him  when  he  called  them,  how  would  I  have  cried,  O 
Lord,  call  me  also  !  But,  oh  !  I  feared  he  would  not  call  me.  And 
truly  the  Lord  let  me  go  thus  many  months  together,  and  showed  m-? 
nothing;  either  that  I  was  already,  or  should  be  called  hereafter;  but 
at  last,  after  much  time  spent  and  many  groans  to  God,  that  I  might 
be  made  partaker  of  the  holy  and  heavenly  calling,  that  word  came 
in  upon  me  :  "I  will  cleanse  their  blood  that  I  have  not  cleansed,  ^or 
the  Lord  dwelleth  in  Zion  "  (Joel  3:  21).  These  words  I  thought 
were  sent  to  encourage  me  to  wait  still  upon  God  ;  and  signified  unto 
me,  that  if  I  were  not  already,  yet  the  time  might  come,  I  might  be  in 
truth  converted  unto  Christ. 

About  this  time  I  began  to  break  my  mind  to  those  poor  people 
in  Bedford  and  to  tell  them  my  condition  ;  which,  when  they  had 
heard,  they  told  Mr.  Gifford  of  me,  who  himself  also  took  occasion  to 
talk  with  me,  and  was  willing  to  be  well  persuaded  of  me,  though,  \ 
think  ,  from  little  grounds.  But  he  invited  me  to  his  house,  where  } 
should  hear  him  confer  with  others  about  the  dealings  of  God  with 
their  souls ;  from  all  which  1  still  received  more  conviction,  and  from 
that  time  began  to  see  something  of  the  vanity  and  inward  wretched- 
ness of  my  wicked  heart;  for  as  yet  I  knew  no  great  matter  therein  ; 
but  now  it  began  to  be  discovered  unto  me,  and  also  to  work  at  that 
rate  as  it  never  did  before.  Now  I  evidently  found  that  lust  and  cor- 
ruptions put  forth  themselves  within  me,  in  wicked  thoughts  and  de- 
sires, which  I  did  not  regard  before.  My  desires  also  for  heaven  and 
life  began  to  fail.  I  found  also,  that  whereas  before  my  soul  was  full 
of  longing  after  God,  now  it  began  to  hanker  after  every  foolish 
vanity ;  yea,  my  heart  would  not  be  moved  to  mind  that  which  was 
good  ;  it  began  to  be  careless  both  of  my  soul  and  heaven  ;  it  would 
now  continually  hang  back,  both  to  and  in  every  duty;  and  was  as  a 
clog  upon  the  leg  of  a  bird,  to  hinder  him  from  flying. 

Nay,  thought  I,  now  I  grow  worse  and  worse  ;  now  I  am  further 
from  conversion  than  ever  I  was  before  ;  wherefore  I  began  to  sink 
greatly  in  my  soul,  and  began  to  entenain  such  discouragement  in  my 


468  Life  of  Bunyan. 


heart  as  laid  me  as  low  as  hell.  If  now  I  should  have  burned  at  the 
stake,  I  could  not  believe  that  Christ  had  a  love  forme.  Alas!  I  could  1 
neither  hear  him,  nor  see  him,  nor  feel  him,  nor  savor  any  of  his  i 
things.  I  was  driven  as  with  a  tempest;  my  heart  would  be  unclean, 
and  the  Canaanites  would  dwell  in  the  land.  Sometimes  I  would 
tell  my  condition  to  the  people  of  God ;  which,  when  they  heard,  they 
would  pity  me  and  would  tell  me  of  the  promises  ;  but  they  had  as 
good  have  told  me,  that  I  must  reach  the  sun  with  my  finger,  as 
have  bidden  me  receive  or  rely  upon  the  promises;  and  as  soon  I 
should  have  done  it.  All  my  sense  and  feeling  were  against  me  ; 
and  I  saw  I  had  a  heart  that  would  sin  and  that  lay  under  a  law  that 
would  condemn.  These  things  have  often  made  me  think  of  the  child 
which  the  father  brought  to  Christ,  who,  while  he  was  yet  a  coming 
to  him,  was  thrown  down  by  the  devil,  and  also  so  rent  and  torn  by 
him  that  he  lay  and  wallowed  foaming  (Luke  9 :  42  ;  Mark  9  :  20). 

Further,  in  these  days,  I  would  find  my  heart  to  shut  itself  up 
against  the  Lord  and  against  his  holy  word ;  I  have  found  my  unbe- 
lief to  set,  as  it  were,  the  shoulder  to  the  door  to  keep  him  out ;  and 
that  too    even    then    when    I    have,  with  many  a   bitter    sigh,  cried,   j 
Good  Lord,  break  it  open  ;  Lord,  break  these  gates  of  brass,  and  cut 
these  bars  of  iron  asunder  (Psalm  107  :   16).     Yet  that  word  would 
sometime  create  in  my  heart  apeaceble  pause,  "I  girded  thee,  though 
thou  hast  not  known  me"  (Isa.  14 :  5).     But  all  this  while,  as  to  the 
acts  of  my  sinning,  I  was  never  more  tender  than  now ;  my  hinder 
parts  were  inward  ;  I  du  rst  not  take  a  pin  or  stick,  though  but  so  big  as 
a  straw  ;  for  my  conscience  now  was  sore,  and  would  smart  at  every 
touch.     I  could  not  tell  how  to  speak  my  words,  for  fear  I  should  mis- 
place them.     Oh,  how  cautiously  did  I  then  go,  in  all  I  did  or  said !  ! 
I  found  myself  as  in  a  miry  bog  that  shook  if  I  did  but  stir,  and  I 
was  as  there  left  both  of  God  and  Christ,  and  the  Spirit,  and  all  good  I 
things. 

But,  I  observed,  though  I  was  such  a  great  sinner  before  con-  - 
version,  God  never  much  charged  the  guilt  of  the  sins  of  my  ignor- 
ance upon  me  ;  only  he  showed  me  I  was  lost  if  I  had  not  Christ, 
because  I  had  been  a  sinner ;  I  saw  that  I  wanted  a  perfect  righteous- 
ness to  present  me  without  fault  before  God,  and  this  righteousness 
was  nowhere  to  be  found  but  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  my 
original  and  inward  pollution  ;  that,  that  was  my  plague  and  affliction  ; 
that  I  saw  at  a  dreadful  rate  always  putting  forth  itself  within  me ; 
that  I  had  the  guilt  of  to  amazement ;  by  reason  of  that  I  was  more 


Life  of  Bunyan.  469 

loathsome  in  mine  own  eyes  than  a  toad,  and  I  thought  I  was  so  in 
God's  eyes  too ;  sin  and  corruption,  I  said,  would  as  naturally  bubble 
out  of  my  heart  as  water  would  bubble  out  of  a  fountain.  I  thought 
now,  that  every  one  had  a  better  heart  than  I  had ;  I  could  have 
changed  heart  with  any  body  ;  I  thought  none  but  the  devil  himself 
could  equal  me  for  inward  wickedness  and  pollution  of  mind.  I  fell, 
therefore,  at  the  sight  of  my  own  vileness  deeply  into  despair  ;  for  I 
concluded  that  this  condition  that  I  was  in  could  not  stand  with  a 
state  of  grace.  Sure,  thought  I,  I  am  forsaken  of  God ;  sure  I  am 
given  up  to  the  devil  and  to  a  reprobate  mind.  And  thus  I  continued 
for  a  long  while,  even  for  some  years  together. 

While  I  was  thus  afflicted  with  the  fears  of  my  own  damnation, 
there  were  two  things  would  make  me  wonder ;  the  one  was,  when 
I  saw  old  people  hunting  after  the  things  of  this  life,  as  if  they  should 
live  here  always.  The  other  was,  when  I  found  professors  much 
distressed  and  cast  down  when  they  met  with  outward  losses,  as  of 
husband,  wife,  child,  etc.  Lord,  thought  I,  what  ado  is  here  about 
such  little  things  as  these !  What  seeking  after  carnal  things  by 
some,  and  what  grief  in  others  for  the  loss  of  them !  If  they  so 
much  labor  after,  and  shed  so  many  tears  for,  the  things  of  thiy 
present  life,  how  am  I  to  be  bemoaned,  and  pitied  and  prayed  for; 
my  soul  is  dying,  my  soul  is  damning.  Were  my  soul  but  in  a  good 
condition,  and  were  I  but  sure  of  it,  ah  !  how  rich  should  I  esteem 
myself,  though  blessed  but  with  bread  and  water !  I  should  count 
those  but  small  afflictions,  and  should  bear  them  as  little  burdens. 
A  wounded  spirit  who  can  bear  ?  And  though  I  was  much  troubled 
and  tossed  and  afflicted  with  the  sight  and  sense  of  my  own 
wickedness,  yet  I  was  afraid  to  let  this  sight  and  sense  go  quite  off  my 
mind.  For  I  found,  that  unless  guilt  of  conscience  was  taken  off  the 
right  way,  that  is,  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  a  man  grew  rather  worse  for 
the  loss  of  his  trouble  of  mind  than  before. 

Wherefore,  if  my  guilt  lay  hard  upon  me,  then  should  I  cry  that 
the  blood  of  Christ  might  take  it  off;  and  if  it  was  going  off  without 
it  (for  the  sense  of  sin  would  be  sometimes  as  if  it  would  die  and  go 
quite  away),  then  I  would  also  strive  to  fetch  it  upon  my  heart  again, 
by  bringing  the  punishment  of  hell-fire  upon  my  spirits ;  and  would 
cry.  Lord,  let  it  not  go  off  my  heart  but  the  right  way,  by  the  blood 
of  Christ  and  the  application  of  thy  mercy,  through  him,  to  my  soul  ; 
for  that  scripture  did  lay  much  upon  me,  "without  shedding  of  blood 
there  is  no  remission"  (Heb.  9:22)      And  that  which  made  me  the 


470 


Life  of  Bunyan. 


more  afraid  of  this  was,  because  I  had  seen  some  who,  though,  when 
they  were  under  the  wounds  of  conscience,  would  cry  and  pray  ;  yet 
feeling  rather  present  ease  for  their  trouble  than  pardon  for  their  sins, 
cared  not  how  they  lost  their  guilt,  so  they  got  it  out  of  their  minds. 
Now,  having  it  got  off  the  wrong  way,  it  is  not  sanctified  unto  them  ; 
but  they  grew  harder  and  blinder  and  more  wicked  after  their  trou- 
ble. This  made  me  afraid,  and  made  me  cry  to  God  the  more,  that  it 
might  not  be  so  with  me.  And  now  I  am  sorry  that  God  had  made 
me  man,  for  I  feared  I  was  a  reprobate;  I  counted  man,  as  unconver- 
ted, the  most  doleful  of  all  creatures.  Thus  being  afflicted  and  tossed 
about  my  sad  condition,  I  counted  myself  alone,  and,  above  the  most 
of  men,  unblessed.  Yea,  I  thought  it  impossible  that  ever  I  should 
attain  to  much  godliness  of  heart  as  to  thank  God  that  he  had  made 
me  a  man.  Man,  indeed,  is  the  most  noble  by  creation  of  all  creat- 
ures in  the  visible  world  ;  but  by  sin  he  had  made  himself  the  most 
ignoble.  The  beasts,  birds,  fishes,  etc.,  I  have  blessed  their  condition ; 
for  they  had  not  a  sinful  nature  ;  they  were  not  obnoxious  to  the 
wrath  of  God  ;  they  were  not  to  go  to  hell-fire  after  death  ;  I  could 
therefore  have  rejoiced,  had  my  condition  been  as  any  of  theirs. 


^^=^8^ 
^*?^ 


*i 


CHAPTER  V. 

N  this  condition  I  went  a  great  while  ;  but  when  the  com- 
forting time  was  come,  I  heard  one  preach  a  sermon  on 
these  words  in  the  song :  ' '  Behold,  thou  art  fair,  my  love  ; 
behold,  thou  art  fair"  (Song  4:1).  But  at  that  time  he 
made  these  two  words,  "My  Love,"  his  chief  subject- 
matter,  from  which,  after  he  had  a  little  opened  the  text,  he  observed 
these  several  conclusions:  (i)  That  the  Church,  and  so  every  saved 
soul,  is  Christ's  love,  when  loveless.  (2)  Christ's  love  without  a  cause. 
(3)  Christ's  love,  which  hath  been  hated  of  the  world.  (4)  Christ's 
love  when  under  temptation  and  under  destruction.  (5)  Christ's  love 
from  first  to  last.  But  I  got  nothing  by  what  he  said  at  present;  only 
when  he  came  to  the  application  of  the  fourth  particular,  this  was  the 
word  he  said  :  "If  it  be  so  that  the  saved  soul  is  Christ's  love  when 
under  temptation  and  destruction,  then,  poor  tempted  soul,  when 
thou  art  assaulted,  and  afflicted  with  temptations,  and  the  hidings  of 
face,  yet  think  on  these  two  words,  '  My  love,'  still." 

So,  as  I  was  coming  home,  these  words  came  again  into  my 
thoughts ;  and  I  well  remember,  as  they  came  in,  I  said  thus  in  my 
heart.  What  shall  I  get  by  thinking  on  these  two  words  ?  This 
thought  no  sooner  passed  through  my  heart  but  these  words  began 
thus  to  kindle  in  my  spirit,  "Thou  art  my  love,  thou  art  my  love," 
twenty  times  together ;  and  still  as  they  ran  in  my  mind  they  waxed 
stronger  and  warmer,  and  began  to  make  me  look  up  ;  but  being  as 
yet  between  hope  and  fear,  I  still  replied  in  my  heart,  But  is  it  true  ? 
but  is  it  true  ?  At  which  that  sentence  fell  upon  me,  "  He  wist  not 
that  it  was  true  which  was  done  unto  him  of  the  angel"  (Acts  12:  9). 
Then  I  began  to  give  place  to  the  word  which,  with  power,  did  over 
and  over  make  this  joyful  sound  within  my  soul :  "  Thou  art  my  love, 
thou  art  my  love,"  and  nothing  shall  separate  thee  from  my  love. 
And  with  that  my  heart  was  filled  full  of  comfort  and  hope,  and  now 
I  could  believe  that  my  sins  would  be  forgiven  me  ;  yea,  I  was  now 
so  taken  with  the  love  and  mercy  of  God,  that  I  remember  that  I 
could  not  tell  how  to  contain  till  I  got  home.  I  thought  I  could  have 
spoken  of  his  love,  and  have  told  of  his  mercy  to  me,  even  to  the 
very  crows  that  sat  upon  the  ploughed  lands  before  me,  had  they  been 

(471) 


472  Life  of  Bimyan. 

capable  to  have  understood  me;  wherefore  I  said  in  my  soul  with 
much  gladness,  Well,  would  I  had  a  pen  and  ink  here,  I  would  write 
this  down  before  I  go  any  further;  for  surely  I  shall  not  forget  this 
forty  years  hence  ;  but,  alas!  within  less  than  forty  days  I  began  to 
question  all  again,  which  made  me  begin  to  question  all  still. 

Yet,  still,  at  times,  I  was  helped  to  believe  that  it  was  a  true  mani- 
^  festation  of  grace  unto  my  soul,  though  I  had  lost  much  of  the  life  and 
*  savor  of  it.  Now,  about  a  week  or  a  fortnight  after  this,  I  was 
much  followed  by  the  Scripture,  "  Simon,  Simon,  behold  Satan  hath 
desired  to  have  you  "  (Luke  22  :  31);  and  sometimes  it  would  sound 
so  loud  within  me,  yea,  and  as  it  were,  called  so  strongly  after  me, 
that  once,  above  all  the  rest,  I  turned  my  head  over  my  shoulder, 
thinking-  verily  that  some  man  had,  behind  me,  called  me  ;  being  at  a 
o-reat  distance,  methought  he  called  so  loud  ;  it  came,  as  I  have  thought 
since,  to  have  stirred  me  up  to  prayer  and  watchfulness.  It  came 
to  acquaint  me  that  a  cloud  and  a  storm  were  coming  down  upon  me, 
but  I  understood  it  not.  Also,  as  I  remember,  that  time  that  it  called 
to  me  aloud  was  the  last  time  it  sounded  in  mine  ears  ;  but  methinks 
I  hear  still  with  what  a  loud  voice  these  words,  Simon,  Simon,  sounded 
in  mine  ears.  I  thought  verily,  as  I  have  told  you,  that  somebody 
had  called  after  me,  that  was  half  a  mile  behind  me;  and,  although 
that  was  not  my  name,  yet  it  made  me  suddenly  look  behind  me, 
believing  that  he  that  called  so  loud  meant  me. 

But  so  foolish  was  I,  and  so  ignorant,  that  I  knew  not  the  reason 
of  this  sound  (which,  as  I  did  both  see  and  feel  soon  after,  was  sent  from 
heaven  as  an  alarm  to  waken  me  to  provide  for  what  was  coming); 
only  I  would  muse  and  wonder  in  my  mind,  to  think  what  should  be 
the  reason  of  this  Scripture,  and  that  at  this  rate  so  often  and  so  loud 
it  should  still  be  sounding  and  rattling  in  mine  ears  ;  but,  as  I  said 
before,  I  soon  after  perceived  the  end  of  God  therein.  For,  about 
the  space  of  a  month  after,  a  very  great  storm  came  down  upon  me, 
which  handled  me  twenty  times  worse  than  all  I  had  met  with  before; 
it  came  stealing  upon  me,  now  by  one  piece  and  then  by  another. 
First,  all  my  comfort  was  taken  from  me  ;  then  darkness  seized  upon 
me ;  after  which,  whole  floods  of  blasphemies,  both  against  God, 
Christ  and  the  Scriptures,  were  poured  upon  my  spirit,  to  my  great 
confusion  and  astonishment.  These  blasphemous  thoughts  were  such 
as  stirred  up  questions  in  me  against  the  very  being  of  God,  and 
of  his  only-beloved  Son;  as,  whether  there  were  in  truth  a  God  or 
Christ ;  and  whether  the  Holy  Scriptures  were  not  rather  a  f-^ble  and 
cunning  story,  than  the  holy  and  pure  word  of  God. 


Life  of  Bu7iyan.  473 

The  tempter  would  also  much  assault  me  with  this  :  How  can 
you  tell  but  that  the  Turks  had  as  good  Scriptures  to  prove  their 
Mahomet  the  Saviour  as  we  have  to  prove  our  Jesus?  and  could  I 
think  that  so  many  ten  thousands,  in  so  many  countries  and  king- 
doms, should  be  without  the  knowledge  of  the  right  way  to  heaven 
(if  there  were  indeed  a  heaven)  ;  and  that  we  only,  who  live  in  a 
corner  of  the  earth,  should  rightest,  both  Jews  and  Moors  and 
Pagans  ;  and  how,  if  all  our  faith,  alone  be  blessed  therewith?  Every 
one  doth  think  his  own  religion  and  Christ,  and  Scriptures,  should 
be  but  a  think  so,  too  ? 

Sometimes  I  have  endeavored  to  aroue  atrainst  these  sua-- 
gestions,  and  to  set  some  of  the  sentences  of  blessed  Paul  against 
them  ;  but,  alas  !  I  quickly  felt,  when  I  thus  did,  such  arguings  as 
these  would  return  again  upon  me:  Though  we  made  so  great  a 
matter  of  Paul  and  of  his  words,  yet  how  could  I  tell,  but  that,  in 
very  deed,  he  being  a  subtle  and  cunning  man,  might  give  himself 
up  to  deceive  with  strong  delusions,  and  also  take  the  pains  and 
travail  to  undo  and  destroy  his  fellows  ?  These  suggestions,  with 
many  others  (which  at  this  time  I  may  not  and  dare  not  utter,  neither 
by  word  nor  pen),  did  make  such  a  seizure  upon  my  spirits,  and  did 
so  overweigh  my  heart,  both  with  their  number,  continuance,  and 
fiery  force,  that  I  felt  as  if  there  were  nothing  else  but  these  from 
morning  to  night  within  me  ;  and  as  though,  indeed,  there  could  be 
room  for  nothing  else  ;  and  also  concluded  that  God  had  in  very 
wrath  to  my  soul  given  me  up  to  them,  to  be  carried  away  with  them 
as  with  a  mighty  whirlwind.  Only,  by  the  distaste  that  they  gavj 
unto  my  spirit,  I  felt  there  was  something  in  me  that  refused  to  em- 
brace them.  But  this  consideration  I  then  only  had,  when  God  gave 
me  leave  to  swallow  my  spittle ;  otherwise  the  noise  and  strength 
and  force  of  these  temptations  would  drown  and  overflow,  and,  as  it 
were,  bury  all  such  thoughts,  or  the  remembrance  of  any  such  thing. 
While  I  was  in  this  temptation  I  often  found  my  mind  suddenly  put 
upon  to  curse  and  swear,  or  to  speak  some  grievous  things  against 
God,  or  Christ,  his  Son,  and  of  the  Scriptures. 

Now,  I  thought,  surely  I  am  possessed  of  the  devil ;  at  other 
times,  again,  I  thought  I  should  be  bereft  of  my  wits  ;  for,  instead  of 
lauding  and  magnifying  God  the  Lord,  with  others,  if  I  have  but  heard 
him  spoken  of,  presently  some  most  horrible  blasphemous  thought 
or  other  would  bolt  out  of  my  heart  against  him  ;  so  that  whether  I 
did  think  that  God  was,  or  again  did  think  there  was  no  such  thing, 


474  Life  of  Bimyan. 

no  love,  nor  peace,  nor  gracious  disposition  could  I  feel  widiln  me. 
These  things  did  sink  me  into  very  dt^ep  despair;  for  I  concluded 
that  such  things  could  not  possibly  be  found  among  them  that  loved 
God.  I  often,  when  these  temptations  had  been  with  force  upon  me, 
did  compare  myself  to  the  case  of  such  a  child,  whom  some  gipsy 
hath  by  force  took  up  in  her  arms,  and  is  carrying  from  friend  and 
country.  Kick  sometimes  I  did,  and  also  shriek  and  cry  ;  but  yet  I 
was  bound  in  the  wings  of  the  temptation,  and  the  wind  would  carry 
me  away.  I  thought  also  of  Saul,  and  of  the  evil  spirit  that  did  pos- 
sess him,  and  did  greatly  fear  that  my  condition  was  the  same  with 
that  of  his. 

In  these  days,  when  I  have  heard  others  talk  of  what  was  the 
sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  then  would  the  tempter  so  provoke  me 
to  desire  to  sin  that  sin,  that  I  was  as  if  I  could  not,  must  not,  neither 
should  be  quiet  until  I  had  committed  it ;  now  no  sin  would  serve  but 
that.  If  it  were  to  be  committed  by  speaking  of  such  a  word,  then 
I  have  been  as  if  my  mouth  would  have  spoken  that  word,  whether 
I  would  or  no  ;  and,  in  so  strong  a  measure  was  this  temptation  upon 
me,  that  often  I  have  been  ready  to  clap  my  hands  under  my  chin, 
to  hold  my  mouth  from  opening  ;  and  to  that  end  also  I  have  had 
thoughts  at  other  times  to  leap  with  my  head  downward  into  some 
muck-hill,  hole,  or  other,  to  keep  my  mouth  from  speaking.  Now, 
again,  I  beheld  the  condition  of  the  dog  and  toad,  and  counted  the 
estate  of  every  thing  that  God  had  made  far  better  than  this  dreadful 
state  of  mine,  and  such  as  my  companions'  was. 

Yea,  gladly  would  I  have  been  in  the  condition  of  a  dog  or  horse; 
for  I  knew  they  had  no  souls  to  perish  under  the  everlasting  weight 
of  hell,  or  sin,  as  mine  was  like  to  do.  Nay,  and  though  I  saw  this, 
felt  this,  and  was  broken  to  pieces  with  it,  yet  that  which  added  to 
my  sorrow  was,  that  I  could  not  find  that,  with  all  my  soul,  I  did 
desire  deliverance.  That  Scripture  did  also  tear  and  rend  my  soul 
in  the  midst  of  these  distractions :  "  The  wicked  are  like  the  troubled 
sea,  when  it  cannot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  Tliere 
is  no  peace,  saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked"  (Isa.  57  :  20,  21).  And 
now  my  heart  was,  at  times,  exceeding  hard  ;  if  I  would  have  given 
a  thousand  pounds  for  a  tear,  I  could  not  have  shed  one  ;  no,  nori 
sometimes  scarce  desire  to  shed  one.  I  was  much  dejected  to  think^ 
that  this  should  be  my  lot.  I  saw  some  could  mourn  and  lament 
their  sin  ;  and  others,  again,  could  rejoice  and  bless  God  for  Christ ; 
and  others,  again,  could  quiedy  talk  of,  and  with  gladness  remember, 


Life  of  Btcnyan.  47b 

the  Word  of  God,  while  I  only  was  In  the  storm  or  tempest.  This 
much  sunk  me,  I  thought  my  condition  was  alone  ;  I  should,  there- 
fore, much  bewail  my  hard  hap  ;  but  get  out  of,  or  get  rid  of  these 
things,  I  could  not.  While  this  temptation  lasted,  which  was  about 
a  year,  I  could  attend  upon  none  of  the  ordinances  of  God,  but  with 
sore  and  great  affliction  ;  yea,  then  I  was  most  distressed  with  blas- 
phemies ;  if  I  had  been  hearing  the  Word,  then  uncleanness,  blas- 
phemies, and  despair,  would  hold  me  a  captive  there  ;  if  I  had  been 
reading,  then,  sometimes,  I  had  sudden  thoughts  to  question  all  I 
read  ;  sometimes,  again,  my  mind  would  be  so  strangely  snatched 
away,  and  possessed  with  other  things,  that  I  have  neither  known, 
nor  remembered  so  much  as  the  sentence  that  but  now  I  have  read. 

In  prayer,  also,  I  have  been  gready  troubled  at  this  time;  some- 
times I  have  thought  I  have  felt  Satan  behind  me  pull  my  clothes  ; 
he  would  be  also  continually  at  me  in  time  of  prayer,  to  have  done, 
break  off;  make  haste,  you  have  prayed  enough,  and  stay  no 
longer  ;  still  drawing  my  mind  away.  Sometimes,  also,  he  would 
cast  in  such  wicked  thoughts  as  these  :  that  I  must  pray  to  him,  or 
for  him.  I  have  thought  sometimes  of  that  "Fall  down,"  or,  "If 
thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  me"  (Matt.  4:  9),  Also,  when, 
because  I  have  had  wandering  thoughts  in  the  time  of  this  duty,  I 
have  labored  to  compose  my  mind  and  fix  it  upon  God ;  then,  with 
great  force,  hath  the  tempter  labored  to  distract  me  and  confound 
me,  and  to  turn  away  my  mind,  by  presenting  to  my  heart  and  fancy 
the  form  of  a  bush,  a  bull,  a  besom,  or  the  like,  as  if  I  should  pray 
to  these  ;  to  these  he  would  also  (at  some  times  especially)  so  hold 
my  mind,  that  I  was  as  if  I  could  think  of  nothing  else,  or  pray  to 
nothing  else  but  to  these,  or  such  as  they. 

Yet,  at  times,  I  should  have  some  strong  and  heart-affecting 
apprehensions  of  God  and  the  reality  of  the  truth  of  his  Gospel ; 
but,  oh  !  how  would  my  heart — how  would  my  heart,  at  such  times, 
put  forth  itself  with  inexpressible  groanings.  My  whole  soul  was 
then  in  every  word ;  I  should  cry  with  pangs  after  God,  that  he 
would  be  merciful  unto  me;  but  then  I  should  be  daunted  again 
with  such  conceits  as  these,  I  should  think  that  God  did  mock  at 
these  my  prayers,  saying,  and  that  in  the  audience  of  the  holy  angels: 
This  poor  simple  wretch  doth  hanker  after  me,  as  if  I  had  nothing 
to  do  with  mercy  but  to  bestow  it  on  such  as  him.  Alas,  poor  soul ! 
how  art  thou  deceived !  It  is  not  for  such  as  thee  to  have  favor 
with  the  Highest 


4?6  Life  of  Btmyan. 

Then  hath  the  tempter  come  upon  me,  also,  with  such  discour- 
agements as  these  :  You  are  very  hot  for  mercy,  but  I  will  cool  you  ; 
this  frame  shall  not  last  always  ;  many  have  been  as  hot  as  you  for 
a  sprie,  but  I  have  quenched  their  zeal  (and  with  this,  such  and  such 
who  were  fallen  off,  would  be  set  before  mine  eyes).  Then  I  would 
be  afraid  that  I  should  do  so  too  ;  but,  thought  I,  I  am  glad  this 
comes  into  my  mind;  well,  I  will  watch,  and  take  what  care  I  can. 
Though  you  do  (said  Satan),  I  should  be  too  hard  for  you  ;  I  will 
cool  you  insensibly,  by  degrees,  by  little  and  little.  "What  care  I 
(saith  he)  though  I  be  seven  years  in  chilling  thy  heart,  if  I  can  do 
it  at  last  ?  Continually  rocking  will  lull  a  crying  child  asleep  ;  I  will 
ply  it  close,  but  I  will  have  my  end  accomplished.  Though  you  be 
burning  hot  at  present,  I  can  pull  you  from  this  fire ;  I  shall  have 
you  cold  before  it  be  long.  These  things  brought  me  into  great 
straits,  for,  as  I,  at  present,  could  not  find  myself  fit  for  present 
death,  so  I  thought  to  live  long  would  make  me  yet  more  unfit ;  for 
time  would  make  me  forget  all,  and  wear  even  the  remembrance 
of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  worth  of  heaven,  and  the  need  I  had  of  the 
blood  of  Christ  to  wash  me,  both  out  of  my  mind  and  thought ;  but 
I  thank  Christ  Jesus  these  things  did  not,  at  present,  make  me  slack 
my  crying,  but  rather  did  put  me  more  upon  it  like  her  who  met 
with  the  adulterer  (Deut.  22  :  27),  in  which  days  that  was  a  good 
word  to  me,  after  I  had  suffered  these  things  a  while  ;  I  am  per- 
suaded that  neither  height,  nor  depth,  nor  life,  etc.,  shall  separate  us 
from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  (Rom.  8  :  39). 

And  now  I  hoped  long  life  would  not  destroy  me,  nor  make  me 
miss  of  heaven.  Yet  I  had  some  supports  in  this  temptation,  though 
they  were  then  all  questioned  by  me ;  that  in  Jer.  3,  at  the  first, 
was  something  to  me  ;  and  so  was  the  consideration  of  verse  five  of 
that  chapter  ;  that  though  we  have  spoken  and  done  as  evil  things 
as  we  could,  yet  we  shall  cry  unto  God,  "  My  Father,  thou  art  the 
guide  of  my  youth,"  and  shall  return  unto  him.  I  had  also  once  a 
sweet  glance  from  that  in  2  Cor.  5:21,  "For  he  hath  made  him  to  be 
sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  in  him."  I  remember,  that  one  day,  as  I  was  sitting  in 
a  neighbor's  house,  and  there  very  sad  at  the  consideration  of  many 
blasphemies ;  and  as  I  was  saying  in  my  mind,  What  ground  have  I 
to  say  that  I,  who  have  been  so  vile  and  abominable,  should  ever 
inherit  eternal  life?  that  word  came  suddenly  upon  me,  "What  shall 
we  say  to  these  things  ?    If  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ? " 


Life  of  Bunyan,  477 

(Rom.  8  :  13.)  That  also  was  a  help  to  me,  "  Because  I  live,  you 
shall  live  also  "  (John  14:  19).  But  these  words  were  but  hints, 
touches,  and  short  visits,  though  very  sweet  when  present ;  only 
they  lasted  not,  but,  like  to  Peter's  sheet,  of  a  sudden  were  caught 
up  from  me  to  heaven  again  (Acts  10 :  16). 

But  afterwards  the  Lord  did  more  fully  and  graciously  discover 
himself  unto  me,  and,  indeed,  did  quite,  not  only  deliver  me  from  the 
guilt  that  by  these  things  was  laid  upon  my  conscience,  but  also 
from  the  very  filth  thereof;  for  the  temptation  was  removed,  and  I 
was  put  into  my  right  mind  again,  as  other  Christians  were.  I 
remember  that  one  day,  as  I  was  travelling  into  the  country,  and 
musing  on  the  wickedness  and  blasphemy  of  my  heart,  and  consider- 
ing the  enmity  that  was  in  me  to  God,  that  Scripture  came  into  my 
mind,  He  hath  "made  peace  by  the  blood  of  his  cross"  (Col.  i:  20). 
By  which  I  was  made  to  see,  both  again  and  again,  that  God  and 
my  soul  were  friends  by  his  blood  ;  yea,  I  saw  that  the  justice  of  God 
and  my  soul  could  embrace  and  kiss  each  other,  through  his  blood. 
This  was  a  good  day  to  me ;  I  hope  I  shall  never  forget  it.  At 
another  time,  as  I  sat  by  my  fire  in  my  house,  and  musing  on  my 
wretchedness,  the  Lord  made  that  also  a  precious  word  unto  me, 
"  Forasmuch  then  as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood, 
he  also  himself  likewise  took  part  of  the  same,  that  through  death 
he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil ; 
and  deliver  them  who  through  the  fear  of  death  were  all  their  life- 
time subject  to  bondage"  (Heb.  2:  14,  15).  I  thought  that  the 
glory  of  these  words  was  then  so  weighty  on  me,  that  I  was  both 
once  and  twice  ready  to  swoon  as  I  sat ;  yet  not  with  grief  and 
trouble,  but  with  solid  joy  and  peace. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

^T  this  time  also  I  sat  under  the  ministry  of  holy  Mr.  Gif- 
ford,  whose  doctrine,  by  God's  grace,  was  much  for  my 
stability.  This  man  made  it  much  his  business  to 
deliver  the  people  of  God  from  all  those  hard  and  un- 
sound tests  that  by  nature  we  are  prone  to.  He  would 
bid  us  take  special  heed  that  we  took  not  up  any  truth  upon  trust, 
as  from  this  or  that,  or  any  other  man  or  men  ;  but  cry  mightily  to 
God,  that  he  would  convince  us  of  the  reality  thereof,  and  set  us 
down  therein,  by  his  own  Spirit  in  the  holy  word  ;  For,  said  he,  if 
you  do  otherwise,  when  temptation  comes,  if  strongly  upon  you,  you 
not  having  received  them  with  evidence  from  heaven,  will  find  you 
want  that  help  and  strength  now  to  resist,  that  once  you  thought 
you  had. 

This  was  as  seasonable  to  my  soul  as  the  former  and  latter  rains 
in  their  season  ;  for  I  had  found,  and  that  by  sad  experience,  the 
truth  of  these  his  words  (for  I  had  felt  no  man  can  say,  especially 
when  tempted  by  the  devil,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  but  by  the 
Holy  Ghost).  Wherefore  I  found  my  soul,  through  grace,  very  apt 
to  drink  in  this  doctrine,  and  to  incline  to  pray  to  God  that,  in  noth- 
ing that  pertained  to  God's  glory  and  my  own  eternal  happiness,  he 
would  suffer  me  to  be  without  the  confirmation  thereof  from  heaven  ; 
for  now  I  saw  clearly,  that  there  was  an  exceeding  difference  betwixt 
the  notion  of  the  flesh  and  blood,  and  the  revelation  of  God  in 
heaven  ;  also  a  great  difference  betwixt  that  faith  that  is  feigned,  and 
according  to  man's  wisdom,  and  of  that  which  comes  by  a  man's 
being  born  thereto  of  God  (Matt.  16:17;  i  John  5:1).  But,  oh  ! 
how  was  my  soul  led  from  truth  to  truth  by  God  !  Even  from  the 
birth  and  cradle  of  the  Son  of  God,  to  his  ascension  and  second 
coming  from  heaven  to  judge  the  world. 

Truly  I  then  found,  upon  this  account,  the  great  God  was  very 
good  unto  me  ;  for  to  my  remembrance,  there  was  not  anything  that 
I  dien  cried  unto  God  to  make  known  and  reveal  unto  me,  but  he  was 
pleased  to  do  it  for  me  ;  I  mean  not  one  part  of  the  Gospel  of  the 
Lord  Je  ;,us,  but  I  was  orderly  let  into  it ;  methought  I  saw  with  great 
evidence,  from  the  four  Evangelists,  the  wonder^"!  v'orks  of  God,  in 

(478) 


Life  of  Bunyan.  479 

giving  Jesus  Christ  to  save  us,  from  liis  conception  and  birth,  even 
to  his  second  coming  to  judgment ;  methought  I  was  as  if  I  had  seen 
him  born,  as  if  I  had  seen  him  grow  up  ;  as  if  I  had  seen  him  walk 
through  this  world,  from  the  cradle  to  the  cross  ;  to  which  also,  when 
he  came,  I  saw  how  gently  he  gave  himself  to  be  crucified,  and 
nailed  on  it  for  my  sins  and  wicked  doings.  Also,  as  I  was  musing 
on  this  his  progress,  that  dropped  on  my  spirit,  He  was  ordained  for 
the  slaughter  {i  Pet.  i:  20).  When  I  have  considered,  also,  the 
truth  of  his  resurrection,  and  have  remembered  that  word,  "  Touch 
me  not,  Mary,"  etc.,  I  have  seen  as  if  he  had  leaped  out  of  the 
grave's  mouth  for  joy  that  he  was  risen  again,  and  had  got  the  con 
quest  over  our  dreadful  foes  (John  20:  17).  I  have  also,  in  the 
spirit,  seen  him  a  man,  on  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Father  for  me; 
and  have  seen  the  manner  of  his  coming  from  heaven  to  judge  the 
world  with  glory,  and  have  been  confirmed  in  these  things  by  these 
Scriptures:  Acts  1:9;  7:  56;  10:  42;  Heb.  7:24;  Rev.  i:  18;  i 
Thess.  4:  17,  18. 

Once  I  was  troubled  to  know  whether  the  Lord  Jesus  was  man 
as  well  as  God,  and  God  as  well  as  man ;  and  truly  in  those  days, 
let  men  say  what  they  would,  unless  I  had  it  with  evidence  from 
heaven,  all  was  nothing  to  me ;  I  counted  myself  not  set  down  as  to 
truth  of  God.  Well,  I  was  much  troubled  about  this  point,  and  could 
not  tell  how  to  be  resolved  ;  at  last,  that  in  Rev.  5:  6,  came  into  my 
mind:  "And  I  beheld,  and  lo  !  in  the  midst  ot  the  throne,  and  of  the 
four  beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  elders,  stood  a  lamb."  In  the 
midst  of  the  throne,  thought  I,  there  is  the  Godhead  ;  in  the  midst  of 
the  elders,  there  is  his  manhood  ;  but,  oh  !  methought  this  did  glister  ' 
It  was  a  goodly  touch,  and  gave  me  sweet  satisfaction.  That  other 
Scripture,  also,  did  help  me  much  in  this  :  "  To  us  a  child  is  born,  to 
us  a  son  is  given,  and  the  government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the 
Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  "  etc.  (Isa  9:6).  Also,  be- 
sides these  teachings  of  God  in  his  Word,  the  Lord  made  use  of  tw  ? 
things  to  confirm  me  in  this  truth  ;  the  one  was  the  errors  of  the 
Quakers,  and  the  other  was  the  guilt  of  sin  ;  for  as  the  Quakers  did 
oppose  the  truth,  so  God  did  the  more  confirm  me  in  it  by  leading  me 
into  the  Scripture  that  did  wonderfully  maintain  it. 

The  errors  that  this  people  then  maintained  were: 

(i)  That  the  Holy  Scriptures  were  not  the  work  of  God. 

(2)  That  every  man  in  the  world  had  the  spirit  of  Christ,  grace, 
faith,  etc. 


480  Life  of  Bunyan. 

(3)  That  Christ  Jesus,  as  crucified  and  dying  sixteen  hundred 
years  ago,  did  not  satisfy  divine  justice  for  the  sins  of  the  people. 

(4)  That  Christ's  flesh  and  blood  were  within  the  saints. 

(5)  That  the  bodies  of  the  good  and  bad  that  are  buried  in  the 
churchyard  shall  not  rise  again. 

(6)  That  the  resurrection  is  passed  with  good  men  already. 

(7)  That  that  man  Jesus,  that  was  crucified  between  the  two 
thieves,  on  Mount  Calvary,  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  by  Judea,  was  not 
ascended  above  the  starry  heaven. 

(8)  That  he  should  not,  even  the  same  Jesus  that  died  by  the 
hands  of  the  Jews,  come  again  at  the  last  day  ;  and,  as  man,  judge 
all  nations,  etc. 

Many  more  evil  and  abominable  things  were  in  those  days 
fomented  by  them,  by  which  I  was  driven  to  a  more  narrow  search  of 
the  Scriptures  and  was,  through  their  light  and  testimony,  not  only 
enlightened,  but  greatly  confirmed  and  comforted  in  the  truth ;  and, 
as  I  said,  the  guilt  of  sin  did  help  me  much,  for  still  as  that  would 
come  upon  me,  the  blood  of  Christ  did  take  it  off  again  and  again ; 
and  that  too  sweetly  according  to  the  Scriptures.  O  friends  !  cry  to 
God  to  reveal  Jesus  Christ  unto  you  ;  there  is  none  teacheth  like  him. 
It  would  be  too  long  here  to  stay  to  tell  you  in  particular  how  God 
did  set  me  down  in  all  the  things  of  Christ,  and  how  he  did,  that  he 
might  do  so,  lead  me  into  his  words  ;  yea,  and  also  how  he  did  open 
them  unto  me,  and  make  them  shine  before  me,  and  cause  them  to 
dwell  with  me,  talk  with  me,  and  comfort  me  over  and  over,  both  of 
his  own  being,  and  the  being  of  his  Son,  and  his  Spirit,  and  Word, 
and  Gospel.  Only  this,  as  I  said  before,  I  wull  say  unto  you  again, 
that  in  general  he  was  pleased  to  take  this  course  with  me;  first  to 
suffer  me  to  be  afflicted  with  temptations  concerning  them,  and  then 
revealed  them  unto  me.  As  sometimes  I  should  lie  under  great  guilt 
for  sin,  even  crushed  to  the  ground  therewith  ;  and  then  the  Lord 
would  show  me  the  death  of  Christ ;  so  besprinkled  my  conscience 
with  his  blood,  that  I  should  find,  and  that  before  I  was  aware,  that  in 
that  conscience  where  but  just  now  did  reign  and  rage  the  law,  even 
there  would  rest  and  abide  the  peace  and  love  of  God,  through  Christ. 

Now  I  had  an  evidence,  as  I  thought,  of  my  salvation  from  heaven, 
with  many  golden  seals  thereon,  all  hanging  in  my  sight;  now  could 
I  remember  this  manifestation,  and  the  other  discovery  of  grace  with 
comfort,  and  would  often  long  and  desire  that  the  last  day  were 
come,  that  I  might  be  for  ever  inflamed  with  the  sight  and  joy  and 


Life  of  Btmyan. 


481 


communion  with  him,  whose   head  was  crowned  with  thorns,  whose 
face  was  spit  upon,  and  body  broken,  and  soul  made  an  offering-  for 
my  sins ;  for  whereas  before  I  lay  continually  trembling  at  the  mouth 
of  hell,  now  methought  I  was  got  so  far  therefrom,  that  I  could  not, 
when  I  looked  back,  scarce  discern  it ;  and,  oh  !  thought  I,  that  I  were 
four-score  years  old  now,  that  I  might  die  quickly,  thet  my  soul  might 
be  gone  to  rest !     But  before  I  had  got  thus  far  out  of  these  tempta- 
tions, I  did  greatly  long 
to    see    some    ancient 
godly  man's  experience, 
who  had  written  some 
hundreds  of  years  before 
I  was  born ;   for  those 
who  had  written  in  our 
days,  I  thought   (but  I 
desire  them  now  to  par- 
don me)  that  they  had 
written  only  that  which 
others  felt ;  or  else  had, 
through  the  streng-th  of 
their    wits    and    parts, 
studied  to  answer  such 
objections  as  they  per- 
ceived others  were  per- 
plexed with,  without  go- 
ing down  themselves  in- 
to  the  deep. 

Well,  after  much 
longings  in  my  mind, 
the  God  in  whose  hands 
are  all  our  days  and 
ways,  did  cast  into  my 
hand  (one  day)  a  book 
of  Martin  Luther's;  it  was  his  Comment  on  the  Galatians  !  it  also  was 
so  old,  that  it  was  ready  to  fall  piece  from  piece  if  I  did  but  turn  it 
over.  Now  I  was  pleased  much  that  such  an  old  book  had  fallen  into 
my  hands,  the  which  when  I  had  but  a  litde  way  perused,  I  found  my 
condition  in  his  experience  so  largely  and  profoundly  handled,  as  if 
this  book  had  been  written  out  of  my  heart.  This  made  me 
marvel ;  for  thus,  thought  I,  this  man   could  not  know  anything  of 

31 


BUNYAN  STUDYING  THE  WRITINGS  OF  LUTHER. 


482  Life  of  Bunyan. 

the  state  of  Christians  now,  but  must  needs  write  and  speak  the  ex- 
perience of  former  days.  Besides,  he  doth  most  gravely,  also  in  that 
book,  debate  of  the  rise  of  these  temptations  ;  namely,  blasphemy, 
desperation,  and  the  like  ;  showing  that  the  law  of  Moses,  as  well 
as  the  devil,  death,  and  hell,  had  a  very  great  hand  therein  ;  the  which 
at  first  was  very  strange  to  me  ;  but,  considering  and  watching,  I 
found  it  so  indeed.  But  of  particulars  here  I  intend  nothing  ;  only 
this  methinks  I  must  let  fall  before  all  men  :  I  do  prefer  this  book 
of  Martin  Luther  upon  the  Galatians  (excepting  the  Holy  Bible) 
before  all  the  books  that  ever  I  have  seen,  as  most  fit  for  a  wounded 
conscience. 

And  now  I  found,  as  I  thought,  that  I  loved  Christ  dearly.  Oh  ! 
methought  my  soul  cleaved  unto  him ;  my  affection  cleaved  unto 
him ;  I  felt  my  love  to  him  as  hot  as  fire  !  and  now,  as  Job  said,  I 
thought  I  should  die  in  my  nest ;  but  I  did  quickly  find  that  my  great 
love  was  but  too  little,  and  that  I,  who  had,  as  I  thought,  such  a  burn- 
ing love  to  Jesus  Christ,  could  let  him  go  again  for  a  trifle.  God  can 
tell  how  to  abase  us,  and  can  hide  pride  from  man.  Quickly  after 
this  my  love  was  tried  to  purpose.  For  after  the  Lord  had  in  this 
manner  thus  graciously  delivered  me  from  this  great  and  sore  tempta- 
tatlon,  and  set  me  down  so  sweetly  In  the  faith  of  his  holy  Gospel, 
and  had  o-Iven  me  such  strong  consolation  and  blessed  evidence  from 
heaven,  touching  my  interest  In  his  love  through  Christ,  the  tempter 
came  upon  me  again,  and  that  with  a  more  grievous  and  dreadful 
temptation  than  before. 

And  this  was,  to  sell  and  part  with  this  most  blessed  Christ,  to 
exchange  him  for  the  things  of  this  life — for  anything.  The  temp- 
tation lay  upon  me  for  the  space  of  a  year,  and  did  follow  me  so 
continually,  that  I  was  not  rid  of  it  one  day  in  a  month  ;  no,  not, 
sometimes,  one  hour  in  many  days  together,  unless  when  I  was 
asleep.  And  though  in  my  judgment  I  was  persuaded,  that  those  who 
were  once  effectually  in  Christ,  as  I  hoped  through  his  grace  I  had 
seen  miyself,  I  could  never  lose  him  forever  :  "  For  the  land  shall  not 
be  sold  for  ever,  for  the  land  is  mine,  saith  God"  (Lev.  25  :  23),  yet 
It  was  a  continual  vexation  to  me,  to  think  that  I  should  have  so 
much  as  one  such  thought  within  me  against  a  Christ,  a  Jesus,  who 
had  done  for  me  as  he  had  done  ;  and  yet  then  I  had  almost 
none  others  but  such  blasphemous  ones. 

But  it  was  neither  my  dislike  of  the  thought,  nor  yet  any  desire  and 
endeavor  to  resist  it,  that  in  the  least  did  shake  or  abate  the  contin- 


Life  Of  Bunyan.  483 

uation,  Ot  i-.i^e  the  strength  thereof;  for  it  did  always,  in  almost 
whatever  I  thought,  intermix  itself  therewith  in  such  sort  that  I  could 
neither  eat  my  food,  stoop  for  a  pin,  chop  a  stick,  or  cast  my  eyes  to 
look  on  this  or  that,  and  still  the  temptation  would  come :  Sell  Christ 
for  this,  or  sell  Christ  for  that ;  sell  him,  sell  him.  Sometimes  it 
would  run  in  my  thoughts  not  so  litde  as  a  hundred  times  together: 
Sell  him,  sell  him  ;  against  which  I  may  say,  for  whole  hours  to- 
gether, I  have  been  forced  to  stand  as  continually  leaning  and  forcing 
my  spirit  against  it,  lest  haply  before  I  were  aware  some  wicked  thought 
might  arise  in  my  heart  that  might  consent  thereto  ;  and  sometimes 
the  tempter  would  make  me  believe  I  had  consented  to  it ;  but  then 
I  should  be  as  tortured  upon  a  rack  for  whole  days  together. 

This  temptation  did  put  me  to  such  scares,  lest  I  should  at  some- 
times, I  say,  consent  thereto,  and  be  overcome  therewith,  that  by  the 
very  force  of  my  mind,  laboring  to  gainsay  and  resist  this  wicked- 
ness, my  very  body  would  be  put  in  action  or  motion,  by  the  way  of 
pushing  or  thrusting  with  my  hands  or  elbows;  still  answering  as  fas( 
as  the  destroyer  said,  Sell  him,  I  will  not,  I  will  not,  I  will  not ;  no 
not  for  thousands,  thousands,  thousands  of  worlds ;  thus  reckoning, 
lest  I  should  in  the  midst  of  these  assaults  set  too  low  a  value  on  him, 
even  until  I  scarce  well  knew  where  I  was,  or  how  to  be  composed 
again.  At  these  seasons  he  would  not  let  me  eat  my  food  at  quiet ; 
but,  forsooth,  when  I  was  set  at  the  table  at  any  meat,  I  must  go 
hence  to  pray  ;  I  must  leave  my  food  now,  and  just  now,  so  counter- 
feit holy  would  this  devil  be. 

When  I  was  thus  tempted  I  would  say  in  myself.  Now  I  am  .^t 
meat,  let  me  make  an  end.  No,  said  he,  you  must  do  it  now,  or  you 
will  displease  God  and  despise  Christ.  Wherefore  I  was  mu:;h 
afflicted  with  these  things  ;  and  because  of  the  sinfulness  of  my  nature 
(imagining  these  were  impulses  from  God),  I  should  deny  to  do  it,  as 
if  I  denied  God;  and  then  should  I  not  be  as  guilty,  because  I  did 
obey  a  temptation  of  the  devil,  as  if  I  had  broken  the  law  of  God 
indeed  ?  But  to  be  brief ;  one  morning,  as  I  did  lie  in  my  bed,  I  was, 
as  at  other  times,  most  fiercely  assaulted  with  this  temptation — to 
sell  and  part  with  Christ ;  the  wicked  suggestion  still  running  in  my 
mind,  Sell  him,  sell  him,  sell  him,  sell  him,  as  fast  as  a  man  could 
speak  ;  against  which  also  in  my  mind,  as  at  other  times,  I  answered, 
No,  no;  not  for  thousands,  thousands,  thousands,  at  least  twenty  times 
together  ;  but  at  last,  after  much  striving,  even  until  I  was  almost 
out  of  breath,  I  felt  this  thought  pass  through  myheart :  Let  him  go 


484  Life  of  BunyaTU  ' 

if  he  will ;  and  I  thought  also  that  I  felt  my  heart  freely  consent 
thereto.  Oh,  the  diligence  of  Satan  !  Oh,  the  desperateness  of  man's 
heart ! 

Now  was  the  battle  won,  and  down  fell  I,  as  a  bird  that  is  shot 
from  the  top  of  a  tree,  into  great  guilt  and  fearful  despair.  Thus 
getting  out  of  my  bed,  I  went  moping  into  the  fields  ;  but,  God  knows, 
with  as  heavy  a  heart  as  mortal  man  I  think  could  bear ;  where,  for 
the  space  of  two  hours,  I  was  like  a  man  bereft  of  life  ;  and,  as  now, 
past  all  recovery,  and  bound  over  to  eternal  punishment.  And 
withal,  that  Scripture  did  seize  upon  my  soul :  "  Or  profane  person 
as  Esau,  who  for  one  morsel  of  meat  sold  his  birthright.  For  ye 
know,  how  that  afterwards,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  bless- 
ing, he  was  rejected;  for  he  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he 
sought  it  carefully  with  tears  "  (Heb.  12  :  16,  17). 

Now  was  I  as  one  bound  ;  I  felt  myself  shut  up  into  the  judgment 
to  come.  Nothing  now,  for  two  years  together,  would  abide  with  me 
but  damnation,  and  an  expectation  of  damnation  ;  I  say  nothing  now 
would  abide  with  me  but  this,  save  some  few  moments  for  relief,  as 
in  the  sequel  you  will  see.  These  words  were  to  my  soul  like  fetters 
of  brass  to  my  legs,  in  the  continual  sound  of  which  I  went  for  several 
months  together.  But  about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  on  that  day,  as  I 
was  walking  under  a  hedge  (full  of  sorrow  and  guilt,  God  knows), 
and  bemoaning  myself  for  this  hard  hap,  that  such  a  thought  should 
arise  within  me,  suddenly  this  sentence  rushed  in  upon  me  :  The  blood 
of  Christ  remits  all  guilt.  At  this  I  made  a  stand  in  my  spirit.  With 
that,  this  word  took  hold  upon  me  :  "The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  his 
own  Son,  cleanse  us  from  all  sin"  (i  John  1:7). 

Now  I  began  to  conceive  peace  in  my  soul ;  and  methought  I 
saw  as  if  the  tempter  did  leer  and  steal  away  from  me,  as  being 
ashamed  of  what  he  had  done.  At  the  same  time  also  I  had  my  sin  ; 
and  the  blood  of  Christ  thus  represented  to  me  that  my  sin,  when 
compared  to  the  blood  of  Christ,  was  no  more  to  it  than  this  little 
clod  or  stone  before  me  is  to  this  vast  and  wide  field  that  here  I  see. 
This  gave  me  good  encouragement  for  the  space  of  two  or  three 
hours  ;  in  which  time  also  methought  I  saw,  by  faith,  the  Son  of  God 
as  suffering  tor  my  sins  ;  but  because  it  tarried  not,  I  therefore  sunk 
in  my  spirit  under  exceeding  great  guilt  again.  But  chiefly  by  the 
afore-mentioned  Scripture  concerning  Esau's  selling  of  his  birthriglit ; 
for  that  Scripture  would  lie  all  day  long  in  my  mind,  and  hold  me 
down,  so  that  I  could  by  no  means  lift  up  myself ;  for  when  I  would 


Life  of  Bunyan.  485 

strive  to  turn  to  this  Scripture  or  that  for  relief,  still  that  sentence 
would  be  sounding  in  me :  "  For  ye  know  how  that  afterwards,  when 
he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  found  no  place  of  repent- 
ance, though  he  sought  it  carefully  with  tears."  Sometimes,  indeed, 
I  should  have  a  touch  from  that  in  Luke  22  :  32  :  "I  have  prayed  for 
thee,  that  thy  faith  fail  not ;"  but  it  would  not  abide  upon  me  ;  neither 
could  I,  indeed,  when  I  considered  my  state,  find  ground  to  conceive 
in  the  least,  that  there  should  be  the  root  of  that  grace  in  me,  having 
sinned  as  I  had  done.  Now  was  I  torn  and  rent  in  a  heavy  case  for 
many  days  together. 

Then  begfan  I  with  sad  and  careful  heart  to  consider  of  the  nature 
and  largeness  of  my  sin,  and  to  search  into  the  Word  of  God,  if  I 
could  in  any  place  espy  a  word  of  promise,  or  any  encouraging  sen- 
tence, by  which  I  might  take  relief  Wherefore  I  began  to  consider 
that  of  Mark  3  :  28  :  "All  manner  of  sins  and  blasphemies  shall  be 
forgiven  unto  the  sons  of  men,  wherewith  soever  they  shall  blaspheme." 
Which  place,  methought,  at  a  blush,  did  contain  a  large  and  glorious 
promise  for  the  pardon  of  high  offences  ;  but,  considering  the  place 
more  fully,  I  thought  it  was  rather  to  be  understood  as  relating  more 
chiefly  to  those  who  had,  while  in  a  natural  state,  committed  such 
things  as  there  are  mentioned,  but  not  to  me,  who  had  not  only 
received  light  and  mercy,  but  that  had  been  born  after,  and  also  con- 
trary to  that,  so  slighted  Christ  as  I  had  done.  I  feared,  therefore, 
that  this  wicked  sin  of  mine  might  be  that  sin  unpardonable  of  which 
he  there  thus  speaketh :  "  But  he  that  shall  blaspheme  against  the 
Holy  Ghost,  hath  never  forgiveness,  but  is  in  danger  of  eternal  dam- 
nation "  (Mark  3:  29).  And  I  did  the  rather  give  credit  to  this, 
because  of  that  sentence  in  the  Hebrews  :  "For  you  know  how  that 
afterwards,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  was  re- 
jected ;  for  he  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he  sought  it 
carefully  with  tears."     And  this  stuck  always  with  me. 

And  now  was  I  both  a  burden  and  a  terror  to  myself;  nor  did  1 
evf  r  so  know,  as  now,  what  it  was  to  be  weary  of  my  life,  and  yet  afraid 
to  die.  Oh  !  how  gladly  now  would  I  have  been  anybody  but  myself! 
anything  but  a  man,  and  in  any  condition  but  my  own  !  for  there  was 
nothing  did  pass  more  frequently  over  my  mind,  than  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  to  be  forgiven  my  trangression  and  be  saved  from  the 
wrath  to  come. 

And  now  I  began  to  labor  to  call  again  time  that  was  past ; 
wishing,  a  thousand  times  twice  told,  that  the  day  was  yet  to  come 


486  Life  of  Bunyan. 

when  I  should  be  tempted  to  such  a  sin  ;  concluding,  with  great 
indignation,  both  against  my  heart  and  all  assaults,  how  I  would 
rather  have  been  torn  in  pieces  than  be  found  a  consenter  thereto. 
But,  alas  !  these  thoughts  and  wishes  and  resolvings  were  now  too 
late  to  help  me  ;  this  thought  had  passed  my  heart :  God  hath  let 
me  go,  and  I  am  fallen.  Oh  !  (thought  I)  that  it  was  with  me  as  in 
months  past,  as  in  the  days  when  God  preserved  me  (Job  29  :  2)  ! 
Then  again,  being  loath  and  unwilling  to  perish,  I  began  to  compare 
my  sin  with  others,  to  see  if  I  could  find  that  any  of  those  that  were 
saved  had  done  as  I  had  done.  So  I  considered  David's  adultery 
and  murder,  and  found  them  most  heinous  crimes;  and  those,  too, 
committed  after  light  and  grace  received.  But  yet,  by  considering 
that  his  transgressions  were  only  such  as  were  against  the  law  of 
Moses,  from  which  the  Lord  Christ  could,  with  the  consent  of  his 
word,  deliver  him  ;  but  mine  was  against  the  Gospel ;  yea,  against 
the  Mediator  thereof.     I  had  sold  my  Saviour. 

Now,  again,  should  I  be  as  if  racked  upon  the  wheel,  when  I 
considered  that  besides  the  guilt  that  possessed  me,  I  should  be  so 
void  of  grace,  so  bewitched  !  What,  thought  I,  must  it  be  no  sin 
but  this  ?  Must  it  need  be  the  great  transgression  ?  (Psalm  19:  13.) 
Must  that  wicked  one  touch  my  soul?  (i  John  5:  18.)  Oh,  what 
sting  did  I  find  in  all  these  sentences  !  What,  thought  I,  is  there 
but  one  sin  that  is  unpardonable  !  but  one  sin  that  layeth  the  soul 
without  the  reach  of  God's  mercy;  and  must  I  be  guilty  of  that? 
Must  it  needs  be  that  ?  Is  there  but  one  sin  among  so  many 
millions  of  sins,  for  which  there  is  no  forgiveness,  and  must  I  com- 
mit this  ?  Oh,  unhappy  sin  !  Oh,  unhappy  man  !  These  things 
would  so  break  and  confound  my  spirit,  that  I  could  not  tell  what  to 
do.  I  thought  at  times  they  would  have  broken  my  wits  ;  and  still, 
to  aggravate  my  misery,  that  would  run  in  my  mind.  You  know 
how,  that  afterwards,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he 
was  rejected.  Oh !  no  one  knows  the  terrors  of  those  days  but 
myself.  ,  , 


CHAPTER  VII. 

^|FTER  this  I  began  to  consider  of  Peter's  sin  which  he 
committed  in  denying  his  Master.  And,  indeed,  this 
came  nighest  to  mine  of  any  that  I  could  find,  for  he 
had  denied  his  Saviour,  as  I,  after  light  and  mercy 
received  ;  yea,  and  that,  too,  after  warning  given  him. 
I  also  considered  that  he  did  it  once  and  twice ;  and  that,  after 
time  to  consider  betwixt.  But,  though  I  put  all  these  circumstances 
together,  that,  if  possible,  I  might  find  help,  yet  I  considered  again 
that  his  was  but  a  denial  of  his  Master,  but  mine  was  a  selling  of  my 
Saviour.  Wherefore,  I  thought  with  myself,  that  I  came  nearer  to 
Judas  than  either  to  David  or  Peter.  Here  again  my  torment  would 
flame  out  and  afflict  me  !  yea,  it  would  grind  me,  as  it  were,  to 
powder,  to  consider  the  preservation  of  God  towards  others,  while  I 
fell  into  the  snare ;  for,  in  my  thus  considering  of  other  men's  sins, 
and  comparing  of  them  with  mine  own,  I  could  evidently  see  God 
preserved  them,  notwithstanding  their  wickedness,  and  would  not 
let  them,  as  he  had  let  me,  become  a  son  of  perdition.  But,  oh  ! 
how  did  my  soul  at  this  time  prize  the  preservation  that  God  did 
set  about  his  people  !  Ah,  how  safely  did  I  see  them  walk  whom 
God  had  hedged  in  !  They  were  within  his  care,  protection,  and 
special  providence,  though  they  were  full  as  bad  as  I  by  nature  ; 
yet,  because  he  loved  them,  he  would  not  suffer  them  to  fall  without 
the  range  of  mercy;  but  as  for  me,  I  was  gone,  I  had  done  it.  He 
would  not  preserve  me,  nor  keep  me  ;  but  suffered  me,  because  I 
was  a  reprobate,  to  fall  as  I  had  done.  Now  did  those  blessed 
places  that  speak  of  God's  keeping  his  people,  shine  like  the  sun 
before  me,  though  not  to  comfort  me,  yet  to  show  me  the  blessed 
state  and  heritage  of  those  whom  the  Lord  had  blessed. 

Now  I  saw  that,  as  God  had  his  hand  in  all  the  providences  and 
dispensations  that  overtook  his  elect,  so  he  had  his  hand  in  all  the 
temptations  and  troubles  for  them,  and  also  to  leave  them  for  a  time, 
to  such  things  only  that  might  not  destroy,  but  humble  them ;  as 
might  not  put  them  beyond,  but  lay  them  in  the  way  of  his  renewing 
his  mercy.  But,  oh  !  what  love,  what  care,  what  kindness  and 
mercy  did  I  now  see,  mixing  itself  with  the  most  severe  and  dread- 

(487) 


488  Life  of  Buiiyan. 

ful  of  all  God's  ways  to  his  people  !  He  would  let  David,  Hezekiah, 
Solomon,  Peter,  and  others  fall,  but  he  would  not  let  them  fall  into 
the  sin  unpardonable,  nor  into  hell  for  sin.  Oh  !  thought  I,  these 
be  the  men  that  God  hath  loved ;  these  be  the  men  that  God, 
though  he  chastiseth  them,  keeps  them  in  safety  by  him  ;  and 
them  whom  he  makes  to  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty. 
But  all  these  thoughts  added  sorrow,  grief,  and  horror  to  me,  as, 
whatever  I  now  thought  on,  it  was  killing  me.  If  I  thought  how 
God  kept  his  own,  that  was  killing  to  me ;  if  I  thought  of  how  I 
was  fallen  myself,  that  was  killing  to  me.  As  all  things  wrought 
together  for  the  best,  and  to  do  good  to  them  that  were  the  called 
according  to  his  purpose ;  so  I  thought  that  all  things  wrought  for 
damage  and  for  my  eternal  overthrow. 

Then,  again,  I  began  to  compare  my  sin  with  the  sin  of  Judas, 
that,  if  possible,  I  might  find  if  mine  differed  from  that,  which  in  truth 
is  unpardonable;  and  oh  !  thought  I,  if  it  should  differ  from  it,  though 
but  the  breadth  of  a  hair,  what  a  happy  condition  is  my  soul  in  ! 
And  by  considering,  I  found  that  Judas  did  his  intentionally,  but  mine 
was  against  prayer  and  strivings ;  besides,  his  was  committed  with 
such  deliberation,  but  mine  in  a  fearful  hurry  on  a  sudden.  All  this 
while  I  was  tossed  to  and  fro  like  the  locust,  and  driven  from  trouble 
to  sorrow;  hearing  always  the  sound  of  Esau's  fall  in  mine  ears,  and 
the  dreadful  consequences  thereof.  Yet  this  consideration  about 
Judas's  sin  was,  for  a  while,  some  little  relief  to  me ;  for  I  saw  I  had 
not,  as  to  the  circumstances,  transgressed  so  fully  as  he.  But  this 
was  quickly  gone  again,  for  I  thought  with  myself  there  might  be 
more  ways  than  one  to  commit  this  unpardonable  sin  ;  also  I  thought 
there  might  be  degrees  of  that,  as  well  as  of  other  transgressions  ; 
wherefore,  for  aught  I  yet  could  perceive,  this  iniquity  of  mine  might 
never  be  passed  by.  I  was  often  now  ashamed  that  I  should  be  like 
such  an  ugly  man  as  Judas  ;  I  thought  also  how  loathsome  I  should 
be  unto  all  the  saints  in  the  day  of  judgment;  insomuch  that  now  I 
could  scarce  see  a  good  man  that  I  believed  had  a  good  conscience, 
but  I  should  feel  my  heart  tremble  at  him  while  I  was  in  his  presence. 
Oh  !  now  I  saw  a  glory  in  walking  with  God,  and  what  a  mercy  it  was 
to  have  a  good  conscience  before  him. 

I  was  much  about  that  time  tempted  to  content  myself  by  re- 
ceiving some  false  opinions  :  as  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing  as 
a  day  of  judgment ;  that  we  should  not  rise  again ;  and  that  sin  was 
no  such  grievous  thing ;  the  tempter  suggested  thus  :    For  if  these 


Life  of  Bunyan.  489 

things  should  indeed  be  true,  yet  to  believe  otherwise  would  yield 
you  ease  for  the  present.  If  you  must  perish,  never  torment  your- 
self so  much  beforehand;  drive  the  thoughts  of  damning  out  of  your 
mind,  by  possessing  your  mind  with  some  such  conclusions  that 
Atheists  and  Ranters  use  to  help  themselves  withal.  But,  oh  !  when 
such  thoughts  have  fled  through  my  heart,  how,  as  it  were,  within  a 
step,  have  death  and  judgment  been  in  my  view  !  Methought  the 
Judge  stood  at  the  door;  I  was  as  if  come  already,  so  that  such  things 
could  have  no  entertainment.  But  methinks  I  see  by  this,  that  Satan 
will  use  any  means  to  keep  the  soul  from  Christ ;  he  loveth  not  an 
awakened  frame  of  spirit ;  security,  blindness,  darkness,  and  error, 
are  the  very  kingdom  and  habitation  of  the  wicked  one.  I  found  it 
a  hard  work  not  to  pray  to  God,  because  despair  was  swallowing  me 
up  ;  I  thought  I  was  as  with  a  tempest,  driven  away  from  God;  for 
always,  when  I  cried  to  God  for  mercy,  this  would  come  in:  It  is  too 
late  !  I  am  lost !  God  hath  let  me  fall,  not  to  my  correction,  but  my 
condemnation  ;  my  sin  is  unpardonable  ;  and  I  know  concerning  Esau 
how  that,  after  he  had  sold  his  birthright,  he  would  have  received  the 
blessing,  but  was  rejected. 

About  this  time  I  did  light  on  that  dreadful  story  of  that  miser- 
able mortal,  Francis  Spira,  a  book  that  was  to  my  troubled  spirit  as 
salt  when  rubbed  into  a  fresh  wound  ;  every  sentence  in  that  book, 
every  groan  of  that  man,  with  all  the  rest  of  his  actions  in  his  dolors, 
as  his  tears,  his  prayers,  his  gnashing  of  teeth,  his  wringing  of  hands, 
his  twisting,  and  languishing,  and  pining  away  under  that  mighty 
hand  of  God  that  was  upon  him,  were  as  knives  and  daggers  in  my 
soul ;  especially  that  sentence  of  his  was  frightful  to  me  :  "  Man  knows 
the  beginning  of  sin  ;  but  who  bounds  the  issues  thereof?"  Then 
would  the  former  sentence,  as  the  conclusion  of  all,  fall  like  a  hot 
thunderbolt  again  upon  my  conscience:  "  For  you  know  how  that 
afterwards,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  was  re- 
jected ;  for  he  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he  sought  it  care- 
fully with  tears."  Then  would  I  be  struck  into  a  very  great  tremb- 
ling, insomuch  that  at  some  times  I  could,  for  whole  days  together,  feel 
my  very  body,  as  well  as  my  mind,  to  shake  and  totter  under  the 
sense  of  this  dreadful  judgment  of  God  that  would  fall  on  those  that 
have  sinned  that  most  fearful  and  unpardonable  sin.  I  felt  also  such 
a  clogging  and  heat  at  my  stomach,  by  reason  of  this  my  terror,  that 
I  was,  especially  at  some  times,  as  if  my  breast-bone  would  split 
asunder  ;  then  I  thought  concerning  that  of  Judas,  who,  by  his  "  falling 
headlong,  burst  asunder,  and  all  his  bowels  gushed  out"  (Acts  i:  i8). 


490  Life  of  Bunyan. 

I  feared  also  that  this  was  the  mark  that  God  did  set  on  Cain, 
even  continual  fear  and  trembling,  under  the  heavy  load  of  guilt  that 
he  had  charged  on  him  for  the  blood  of  his  brother  Abel.  Thus  did  I 
whine,  and  twine,  and  shrink  under  the  burthen  that  was  upon  me  ; 
which  burthen  did  so  oppress  me,  that  I  could  neither  stand  nor  go, 
nor  lie  either  at  rest  or  quiet.  Yet  that  saying  would  sometimes 
come  into  my  mind,  "  He  hath  received  gifts  for  the  rebellious  "(Psalm 
68).  The  rebellious,  thought  I  ;  why,  surely  they  are  such  as  once 
were  under  subjection  to  their  prince ;  even  those  who,  after  they 
have  once  sworn  subjection  to  his  government,  have  taken  up  arms 
against  him  ;  and  this,  thought  I,  is  my  very  condition  :  I  once  loved 
him,  feared  him,  served  him  ;  but  now  I  am  a  rebel.  I  have  sold  him. 
I  have  said.  Let  him  go,  if  he  will  ;  but  yet  he  has  gifts  for  rebels, 
and  then  why  not  for  me  ?  This  sometimes  I  thought  on,  and  would 
labor  hard  to  take  thereof,  that  some,  though  small,  refreshment 
might  have  been  conceived  by  me  ;  but  in  this  also  I  missed  of  my 
desire  ;  I  was  driven  with  force  beyond  it.  I  was  like  a  man  going  to 
execution,  even  by  that  place  where  he  would  fain  creep  in  and  hide 
himself,  but  may  not. 

Again,  after  I  had  thus  considered  the  sins  of  the  saints 
m  particular,  and  found  mine  went  beyond  them,  then  I  began  to 
think  with  myself:  Set  the  case  as  I  should,  put  all  theirs  together, 
and  mine  alone  against  them,  might  I  not  then  find  encouragement? 
for  if  mine,  though  bigger  than  any  one,  yet  should  be  equal  to  all, 
then  there  is  hope ;  for  that  blood  that  hath  virtue  enough  in  it  to 
wash  away  all  theirs,  hath  virtue  enough  in  it  to  wash  away  mine, 
though  this  one  be  full  as  big,  if  not  bigger,  than  all  theirs.  Here 
again  I  would  consider  the  sin  of  David,  of  Solomon,  of  Manasseh, 
of  Peter,  and  the  rest  of  the  great  offenders,  and  would  also  labor, 
what  I  might  with  fairness,  to  aggravate  and  heighten  their  sins  by 
several  circumstances.  I  would  think  with  myself  that  David  shed 
blood  to  cover  his  adultery,  and  that  by  the  sword  the  children  of 
Ammon  ;  a  work  that  could  not  be  done  but  by  contrivance,  which 
was  a  great  aggravation  to  his  sin.  But  then  this  would  turn  upon 
me.  Ah  !  but  these  were  but  sins  against  the  law,  from  which  there 
was  a  Jesus  sent  to  save  them  ;  but  yours  is  a  sin  against  the  Saviour, 
and  what  shall  save  you  from  that  ? 

Then  I  thought  of  Solomon,  and  how  he  had  sinned  in  loving 
strange  women,  in  falling  away  to  their  idols,  in  building  them  tem- 
ples, in  doing  this  afterlight,  in  his  old  age,  after  great  mercy  received. 


Life  of  Bunyan.  491 

But  the  same  conclusion  that  cut  me  off  in  the  former  consideration, 
cut  me  off  as  to  this,  namely,  that  all  these  were  but  sins  against  the 
law,  for  which  God  had  provided  a  remedy  ;  but  I  had  sold  my  Sav- 
iour, and  there  remained  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin.  I  would  then 
add  to  these  men's  sins,  the  sins  of  Manasseh ;  how  that  he  built 
altars  for  idols  in  the  house  of  the  Lord ;  he  also  observed  times, 
used  enchantments,  had  to  do  with  wizards,  was  a  wizard,  had  his 
familiar  spirits,  burned  his  children  in  sacrifice  to  the  devils,  and 
made  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  run  down  with  the  blood  of  innocents. 
These,  thought  I,  are  great  sins,  sins  of  a  bloody  color,  but  yet  it 
would  turn  again  upon  me.  They  are  none  of  them  of  the  nature  of 
yours  ;  you  have  parted  with  Jesus,  you  have  sold  your  Saviour. 
This  one  consideration  would  always  kill  my  heart,  my  sin  was  point- 
blank  against  my  Saviour;  and  that  too  at  that  height,  that  I  had  in 
my  heart  said  of  him,  Let  him  go,  if  he  will.  Oh !  methought  this 
sin  was  bigger  than  the  sins  of  a  country,  of  a  kingdom,  or  of  the 
whole  world,  no  one  pardonable  ;  nor  all  of  them  together  was  able 
to  equal  mine,  mine  out-went  them  every  one. 

Now  I  should  find  my  mind  to  flee  from  God,  as  from  the  face  of 
a  dreadful  judge  ;  yet  this  was  my  torment,  I  could  not  escape  his  hand  ; 
"  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God  "  (Heb. 
lO  :  31).  But  blessed  be  his  grace,  that  Scripture,  in  these  flying  fits, 
would  call,  as  running  after  me,  "I  have  blotted  out,  as  a  thick  cloud, 
thy  transgressions;  and,  as  a  cloud,  thy  sins  ;  return  unto  me,  for  I 
have  redeemed  thee"  (Isa.  44  :  22).  This,  I  will  say,  would  come 
in  upon  my  mind,  when  I  was  fleeing  from  the  face  of  God ;  for  I 
did  flee  from  his  face ;  that  is,  my  mind  and  spirit  fled  before  him,  by 
reason  of  his  highness  I  could  not  endure  ;  then  would  the  text  cry  : 
"Return  unto  me;  "  it  would  cry  aloud,  with  a  great  voice,  "  Return 
unto  me,  for  I  have  redeemed  thee,"  Indeed  this  would  make  me  a  little 
stop,  and,  as  it  were,  look  over  my  shoulder  behind  me,  to  see  if  I  could 
discern  that  the  God  of  grace  did  follow  me  with  a  pardon  in  his 
hand  ;  but  I  could  no  sooner  do  that,  but  all  would  be  clouded  and 
darkness  again  by  that  sentence,  "  You  know  how  that  afterwards, 
when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  found  no  place  of 
repentance,  though  he  sought  it  carefully  with  tears."  Wherefore  1 
could  not  refrain,  but  fled,  though  at  some  times  it  cried,  Return, 
return,  as  it  did  follow  after  me :  but  I  feared  to  close  in  therewitli, 
lest  it  should  not  come  from  God :  for  that  other,  as  I  said,  was  still 
sounded  in  my  conscience,  "for  you  know  that  afterwards,  when  he 
would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  was  rejected,"  etc. 


49^  Life  of  Bunyan, 

Once,  as  I  was  walking  to  and  fro  in  a  good  man's  shop,  bemoan- 
ing of  myself  in  my  sad  and  doleful  state,  afflicting  myself  with  self 
abhorrence  for  this  wicked  and  ungodly  thought ;  lamenting  also  this 
hard  hap  of  mine,  for  that  I  should  commit  so  great  a  sin,  gready 
fearing  that  I  should  not  be  pardoned ;  praying  also  in  my  heart, 
that  if  this  sin  of  mine  did  differ  from  that  against  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  Lord  would  show  it  me.  And  being  now  ready  to  sink  with  fear, 
suddenly  there  was  as  if  there  had  rushed  in  at  the  window  the 
noise  of  wind  upon  me,  but  very  pleasant,  and  as  if  I  heard  a  voice 
speaking,  Didst  thou  ever  refuse  to  be  justified  by  the  blood  of 
Christ?  And  withal  my  whole  life  of  profession  past  was  in  a 
moment  opened  unto  me,  wherein  I  was  made  to  see,  that  designedly 
I  had  not ;  so  my  heart  answered  groaningly.  No. 

Then  fell,  with  power,  that  word  of  God  upon  me  :  "  See  that  ye 
refuse  not  him  that  speaketh"  (Heb.  12  :  25),  This  made  a  strange 
seizure  upon  my  spirit ;  it  brought  light  with  it,  and  commanded  a 
silence  in  my  heart  of  all  those  tumultuous  thoughts  that  did  before 
use,  like  masterless  hell-hounds,  to  roar  and  bellow,  and  make  a 
hideous  noise  within  me.  It  showed  me  also  that  Jesus  Christ  had 
yet  a  word  of  grace  and  mercy  for  me ;  that  he  had  not,  as  I  had 
feared,  quite  forsaken  and  cast  off  my  soul ;  yea,  this  was  a  kind  of 
check  for  my  proneness  to  desperation  ;  a  kind  of  threatening  of 
me,  if  I  did  not,  notwithstanding  my  sins  and  the  heinousness  of 
them,  venture  my  salvation  upon  the  Son  of  God.  But  as  to  my 
determining  about  this  strange  dispensation,  what  it  was  I  know 
not ;  or  from  whence  it  came  I  know  not;  I  have  not  yet  in  twenty 
years'  time  been  able  to  make  a  judgment  of  it ;  I  thought  then 
what  I  should  be  loath  here  to  speak.  But  verily  that  sudden  rush- 
ing wind  was  as  if  an  angel  had  come  upon  me  ;  but  both  it,  and 
the  salvation,  I  will  leave  until  the  day  of  judgment;  only  this  I  say, 
it  commanded  a  great  calm  in  my  soul ;  it  persuaded  me  there  might 
be  hope ;  it  showed  me,  as  I  thought,  what  the  sin  unpardonable 
was,  and  that  my  soul  had  yet  the  blessed  privilege  to  flee  to  Jesus 
Christ  for  mercy. 

But  I  say,  concerning  this  dispensation,  I  know  not  what  to  say 
unto  it  yet;  which  was  also,  in  truth,  the  cause  that  at  first  I  did  not 
speak  of  it  in  the  book  ;  I  do  now  also  leave  it  to  be  thought  on  by 
men  of  sound  judgment.  I  lay  not  the  stress  of  my  salvation  there- 
upon, but  upon  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  the  promise;  yet  seeing  I  am 
here  unfolding  my  secret  things,  I   thought  it  might  not  be  alto- 


Life  of  Bunyan.  493 

gether  inexpedient  to  let  this  also  show  itself,  though  I  cannot  now 
relate  the  matter  as  then  I  did  experience  it.  This  lasted,  in  the 
fervor  of  it,  for  about  three  or  four  days,  and  then  I  began  to  mis- 
trust and  to  despair  again. 

Wherefore  still  my  life  hung  in  doubt  before  me,  not  knowing 
which  way  I  should  tip;  only  this  I  found  my  soul  desire,  even  to 
cast  itself  at  the  foot  of  grace  by  prayer  and  supplication.  But, 
oh!  it  was  hard  for  me  now  to  have  the  face  to  pray  to  this  Christ 
for  mercy,  against  whom  I  had  thus  vilely  sinned  ;  it  was  hard  work, 
I  say,  to  offer  to  look  him  in  the  face,  against  whom  I  had  so  vilely 
sinned  ;  and,  indeed,  I  have  found  it  as  difficult  to  come  to  God  by 
prayer,  after  backsliding  from  him,  as  to  do  any  other  thing.  Oh ! 
the  shame  that  did  now  attend  me !  especially  when  I  thought,  I  am 
now  a  going  to  pray  to  him  for  mercy  that  I  had  so  lightly  es- 
teemed but  a  while  before !  I  was  ashamed  ;  yea,  even  confounded, 
because  this  villany  had  been  committed  by  me.  I  must  go  to  him 
and  humble  myself  unto  him,  and  beg  that  he,  of  his  wonderful 
mercy,  would  show  pity  to  me,  and  have  mercy  upon  my  wretched 
sinful  soul.  Which,  when  the  tempter  perceived,  he  strongly  sug- 
gested to  me.  That  I  ought  not  to  pray  to  God,  for  prayer  was  not 
for  any  in  my  case  ;  neither  could  it  do  me  good,  because  I  had  re- 
jected the  Mediator,  by  whom  all  prayer  came  with  acceptance  to 
God  the  Father ;  and  without  whom  no  prayer  could  come  into  his 
presence  ;  wherefore,  now  to  pray,  is  but  to  add  sin  to  sin  ;  yea, 
now  to  pray,  seeing  God  has  cast  you  off,  is  the  next  way  to  anger 
and  offend  him  more  than  you  ever  did  before.  For  God,  saith  he, 
hath  been  weary  of  you  for  these  several  years  already,  because 
you  are  none  of  his  ;  your  bawling  in  his  ears  hath  been  no  pleas- 
ant voice  to  him,  and  therefore  he  let  you  sin  in  this  sin,  that  you 
might  be  quite  cut  off;  and  will  you  pray  still  ? 

This  the  devil  urged,  and  set  forth  that  in  Numbers,  when  Moses 
said  to  the  Children  of  Israel,  that  because  they  would  not  go  up  to 
possess  the  land  when  God  would  have  them,  therefore  forever  he 
did  bar  them  out  from  thence,  though  they  prayed  they  might  with 
tears  (Num.  14:  36,  37,  etc).  As  it  is  said  in  another  place,  "The 
man  that  sins  presumptuously  shall  be  taken  from  God's  altar,  that 
he  may  die"  (Exod.  21  :  14) ;  even  as  Joab  was  by  King  Solomon, 
when  he  thought  to  find  shelter  there  (i  Kings  2  :  28-34).  These 
places  did  pinch  me  very  sore ;  yet,  my  case  being  desperate,  I 
thought  with   myself,  I   can  but  die  ;  and  if  it  must  be  so,  it  shall 


494  Life  of  Bunyan. 

once  be  said,  that  such  an  one  died  at  the  foot  of  Christ  in  prayer. 
This  I  did,  but  with  great  difficulty,  God  doth  know  ;  and  that  be- 
cause, together  with  this,  still  that  saying  about  Esau  would  be  at 
my  heart,  even  like  a  flaming  sword,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  tree  of 
life,  lest  I  should  take  thereof  and  live.  Oh !  who  knows  how  hard 
a  thing  I  found  it,  to  come  to  God  in  prayer!  I  did  also  desire  the 
prayers  of  the  people  of  God  for  me ;  but  I  feared  that  God  would 
give  them  no  heart  to  do  it ;  yea,  I  trembled  in  my  soul  to  think 
that  some  or  other  of  them  would  shortly  tell  me,  that  God  hath 
said  these  words  to  them,  that  he  once  did  say  to  the  prophet  con- 
cerning the  children  of  Israel  :  "Pray  not  for  this  people,  for  I  will 
not  hear  them"  (Jer.  ii  :  14);  so,  pray  not  for  him,  for  I  have  re- 
jected him.  Yea,  I  thought  that  he  had  whispered  this  to  some  of 
them  already,  only  they  durst  not  tell  me  so  ;  neither  durst  I  ask 
them  of  it,  for  fear,  if  it  should  be  so,  it  would  make  me  quite  be- 
side myself.  "Man  knows  the  beginning  of  sin  (said  Spira),  but 
who  bounds  the  issue  thereof?  " 

About  this  time  I  took  an  opportunity  to  break  my  mind  to  an 
ancient  Christian,  and  told  him  all  my  case.  I  told  him  also,  that  I 
was  afraid  that  I  had  sinned  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  he 
told  me  he  thought  so  too.  Here,  therefore,  I  had  but  cold  comfort; 
but  talking  a  little  more  with  him,  I  found  him,  though  a  good  man, 
a  stranger  to  much  combat  with  the  devil.  Wherefore  I  went  to  God 
again,  as  well  as  I  could,  for  mercy  still.  Now  also  did  the  tempter 
beo-in  to  mock  me  in  my  misery,  saying,  that,  seeing  I  had  thus  parted 
with  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  provoked  him  to  displeasure  who  would 
have  stood  between  my  soul  and  the  flame  of  devouring  fire,  there 
was  now  but  one  way,  and  that  was,  to  pray  that  God  the  Father 
would  be  a  mediator  betwixt  his  Son  and  me ;  that  we  might  be 
reconciled  again,  and  that  I  might  have  that  blessed  benefit  in  him 
that  his  blessed  saints  enjoyed.  Then  did  that  Scripture  seize  upon 
my  soul,  "  He  is  of  one  mind,  and  who  can  turn  him?"  Oh  !  I  saw 
it  was  as  easy  to  persuade  him  to  make  a  new  world,  a  new  covenant, 
a  new  Bible,  besides  those  we  have  already,  as  to  pray  for  such  a 
thing. 

This  was  to  persuade  him,  that  what  he  had  done  already  was 

^  mere  folly,  and  persuade  him  to  alter,  yea,  to  disannul  the  whole  way 

of  salvation  ;    and  then  would  that   saying  rend  my  soul   asunder, 

'*  Neither  is  there  salvation  in  any  other ;  for  there  is  none  other  name 

under  heaven  given  among  men,  whereby  we  must  be  saved  "  (Acts 


Life  of  Bunyan,  495 

4:  12),  Now  the  free,  and  full,  and  gracious  words  of  the  Gospel 
were  the  greatest  torment  to  me;  yea,  nothing  so  afflicted  me  as  the 
thoughts  of  Jesus  Christ;  the  remembrance  of  a  Saviour,  because  I 
had  cast  him  off,  brought  forth  the  villany  of  my  sin,  and  my  loss  by 
it,  to  mind  ;  nothing  did  twinge  my  conscience  like  this  ;  everything 
that  I  thought  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  of  his  grace,  love,  goodness,  kind- 
ness, gentleness,  meekness,  death,  blood,  promises  and  blessed  ex- 
hortations, comforts  and  consolations,  went  to  my  soul  like  a  sword; 
for  still  unto  these  my  considerations  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  these 
thoughts  would  make  place  for  themselves  in  my  heart;  aye,  this  is 
the  Jesus,  the  loving  Saviour,  the  Son  of  God,  whom  you  have  parted 
with;  whom  you  have  slighted,  despised  and  abused;  this  is  the  only 
Saviour,  the  only  Redeemer;  the  only  one  that  could  so  love  sinners, 
as  to  wash  them  from  their  sins  in  his  own  most  precious  blood;  but 
you  have  no  part  nor  lot  in  this  Jesus;  you  have  put  him  from  you  ; 
you  have  said  in  your  heart,  Let  him  go,  if  he  will.  Now,  therefore, 
you  are  severed  from  him  ;  you  have  severed  yourself  from  him  ;  be- 
hold, then,  his  goodness,  but  yourself  to  be  no  partaker  of  it!  Oh! 
thought  I,  what  have  I  lost!  what  have  I  parted  with!  What  has  dis- 
inherited my  poor  soul !  Oh  !  it  is  sad  to  be  destroyed  by  the  grace 
and  mercy  of  God  ;  to  have  the  Lamb,  the  Saviour,  turn  lion  and 
destroyer  (Rev.  6).  I  also  trembled,  as  I  have  said,  at  the  sight  ol 
the  saints  of  God,  especially  at  those  that  greatly  loved  him,  and  that 
made  it  their  business  to  walk  continually  with  him  in  this  world ; 
for  they  did,  both  in  their  words,  their  carriages,  and  all  their  expres- 
sions of  tenderness  and  fear  to  sin  against  their  precious  Saviour, 
condemn,  lay  guilt  upon,  and  also  add  continual  affliction  and  shame 
unto  my  soul.  The  dread  of  them  was  upon  me,  and  I  trembled  at 
God's  Samuel  (i  Sam.  16:4). 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


OW,  also,  the  tempter  began  afresh  to  mock  my  soul  an- 
other way,  saying,  That  Christ,  indeed,  did  pity  my  case, 
and  was  sorry  for  my  loss ;  but,  forasmuch  as  I  had  sinned 
and  transgressed  as  I  had  done,  he  could  by  no  means 
help  me,  nor  save  me  from  what  I  feared  ;  for  my  sin 
was  not  of  the  nature  of  theirs  for  whom  he  bled  and  died  ;  neither 
was  it  counted  with  those  that  were  laid  to  his  charge  when  he  hung 
on  a  tree.  Therefore,  unless  he  should  come  down  from  heaven, 
and  die  anew,  for  this  sin,  though,  indeed,  he  did  greatly  pity  me,  yet 
I  could  have  no  benefit  of  him.  These  things  may  seem  ridiculous 
to  others,  even  as  ridiculous  as  they  were  in  themselves,  but  to  me 
they  were  most  tormenting  cogitations  ;  every  one  of  them  aug- 
mented my  misery,  that  Jesus  Christ  should  have  so  much  love  as  to 
pity  me,  when  yet  he  could  not  help  me,  too.  Nor  did  I  think  that  the 
reason  why  he  could  not  help  me  was  because  his  merits  were  weak, 
or  his  grace  and  salvation  spent  on  others  already,  but  because  his 
faithfulness  to  his  threatenings  would  not  let  him  extend  his  mercy 
to  me.  Besides,  I  thought,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  that  my  sin  was 
not  within  the  bounds  of  that  pardon  that  was  wrapped  up  in  a  prom- 
ise ;  and  if  not,  then  I  knew,  surely,  that  it  was  not  more  easy  for 
heaven  and  earth  to  pass  away  than  for  me  to  have  eternal  life.  So 
that  the  ground  of  all  these  fears  of  mine  did  arise  from  a  steadfast 
belief  I  had  of  the  stability  of  the  holy  Word  of  God,  and  also  from 
my  being  misinformed  of  the  nature  of  my  sin.  But,  oh !  how  this 
would  add  to  my  affliction,  to  conceit  that  I  should  be  guilty  of  such 
a  sin  for  which  he  did  not  die  ! 

These  thoughts  did  so  confound  me,  and  imprison  me,  and  tie 
me  up  from  faith,  that  I  knew  not  what  to  do.  But  oh !  thought  I, 
that  he  would  come  down  again  !  Oh !  that  the  work  of  man's  re- 
demption was  yet  to  be  done  by  Christ!  how  would  I  pray  him  and 
entreat  him  to  count  and  reckon  this  sin  among  the  rest  for  which 
he  died  !  But  this  Scripture  would  strike  me  down  as  dead  :  "  Christ, 
being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth  no  more ;  death  hath  no  more 
dominion  over  iiim"  (Rom.  6:  9).  Thus,  by  the  strange  and  un- 
usual assaults  f^f  the  tempter,   my  soul  was  like  a  broken  vessel, 

(496) 


'  Life  of  Bunyan.  497 

driven  as  with  the  winds,  and  tossed  sometimes  into  despair;  some- 
times upon  the  covenant  of  works,  and  sometimes  to  wish  that  the 
new  covenant,  and  the  conditions  thereof,  might,  so  far  as  I  thought 
myself  concerned,  be  turned  another  way  and  changed :  but  in  all 
these  I  was  as  those  who  jostle  against  the  rocks ;  more  broken, 
scattered  and  rent.  Oh !  the  unthought-of  imaginations,  frights, 
fears  and  terrors  that  are  effected  by  a  thorough  application  of  guilt 
yielding  to  desperation !  This  is  as  the  man  that  hath  his  dwelling 
among  the  tombs  with  the  dead,  who  is  always  crying  out  and 
cutting  himself  with  stones  (Mark  5  :  2-5). 

But,  I  say,  all  in  vain ;  desperation  will  not  comfort  him,  the  old 
covenant  will  not  save  him.  Nay,  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away 
before  one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  Word  and  law  of  grace  will  fail  or  be 
removed.  This  I  saw,  this  I  felt,  under  this  1  groaned ;  yet  this 
advantage  I  got  thereby,  namely,  a  further  confirmation  of  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  way  to  salvation,  and  that  the  Scriptures  were  the 
Word  of  God.  Oh  !  I  cannot  now  express  what  I  then  saw  and  felt 
of  the  steadiness  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  rock  of  man's  salvation.  What 
was  done  could  not  be  undone,  added  to  nor  altered.  I  saw,  indeed, 
that  sin  might  drive  the  soul  beyond  Christ,  even  the  sin  which  is 
unpardonable  ;  but  woe  to  him  that  was  so  driven,  for  the  Word 
would  shut  him  out.  Thus  was  I  always  sinking,  whatever  I  did 
think  or  do.  So  one  day  1  walked  to  a  neighboring  town  and  sat 
down  upon  a  settee  in  the  street,  and  fell  into  a  very  deep  pause 
about  the  most  fearful  state  my  sin  had  brought  me  to;  and,  after 
long  musing,  I  lifted  up  my  head,  but  methought  I  saw  as  if  the  sun 
that  shineth  in  the  heavens  did  grudge  to  give  me  light,  and  as  if 
the  very  stones  in  the  streets  and  tiles  upon  the  houses  did  bend 
themselves  against  me,  Methought  that  they  all  combined  together 
to  banish  me  out  of  the  world.  I  was  abhorred  of  them,  and  unfit  to 
dwell  among  them,  or  be  partakers  of  their  benefits,  because  I  had 
sinned  against  the  Saviour.  Oh !  how  happy  now  was  every  crea- 
ture over  me  !  For  they  stood  fast  and  kept  their  station  ;  but  I  was 
gone  and  lost. 

Then,  breaking  out  In  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  I  said  to  my  soul, 
with  a  grievous  sigh.  How  can  God  comfort  such  a  wretch  !  I  had 
no  sooner  said  it  but  this  returned  upon  me,  as  an  echo  doth  answer 
a  voice,  This  sin  is  not  unto  death.  At  which  I  was  as  if  I  had  beer, 
raised  out  of  the  grave,  and  cried  out  again.  Lord,  how  couldst  thou 
find  out  such  a  word  as  this  !     For  I  was  filled  with  admiration  at 

32 


498  Life  of  Bunyan. 

the  fitness  and  at  the  unexpectedness  of  the  sentence  ;  the  fitness  of 
the  word,  the  Tightness  of  the  timing  it.  The  power  and  sweetness 
and  Hght  and  glory  that  came  with  it  also  were  marvellous  to  me  to 
find.  I  was  now,  for  the  time,  out  of  doubt  as  to  that  about  which  I 
so  much  was  in  doubt  before.  My  fears  before  were  that  my  sin 
was  not  pardonable,  and  so  that  I  had  no  right  to  pray,  to  repent, 
etc.  ;  or  that  if  I  did,  it  would  be  of  no  advantage  or  profit  to  me. 
But  now,  thought  I,  if  this  sin  is  not  unto  death,  then  it  is  pardon- 
able ;  therefore,  from  this  I  have  encouragement  to  come  to  God,  by 
Christ,  for  mercy  to  consider  the  promise  of  forgiveness,  as  that  which 
stands  with  open  arms  to  receive  me  as  well  as  others.  This,  there- 
fore, was  a  great  easement  to  my  mind,  to  wit,  that  my  sin  was  par- 
donable, that  it  was  not  the  sin  unto  death  (i  John  5:  16-17). 
None  but  those  that  know  what  my  trouble  (by  their  own  experi- 
ence) was,  can  tell  what  relief  came  to  my  soul  by  this  consideration  ; 
it  was  a  release  to  me  from  my  former  bonds  and  a  shelter  from 
my  former  storms.  I  seemed  now  to  stand  upon  the  same  ground 
with  other  sinners,  and  to  have  as  good  a  right  to  the  word  and 
prayer  as  any  of  them. 

Now,  I  say,  I  was  in  hopes  that  my  sin  was  not  unpardonable,  but 
that  there  might  be  hopes  forme  to  obtain  forgiveness.  But  oh! 
how  Satan  did  now  lay  about  him  for  to  bring  me  down  again  !  But 
he  could  by  no  means  do  it,  neither  this  day  nor  the  most  part  of  the 
next,  for  this  sentence  stood  like  a  mill-post  at  my  back  ;  yet,  towards 
the  evening  of  the  next  day,  I  felt  this  word  begin  to  leave  me  and 
to  withdraw  its  support  from  me ;  and  so  I  returned  to  my  old  fears 
again,  but  with  a  great  deal  of  grudging  and  peevishness,  for  I  feared 
the  sorrow  of  despair ;  nor  could  my  faith  long  retain  this  word. 
But  the  next  day  at  evening,  being  under  many  fears,  I  went  to  seek 
the  Lord,  and  as  I  prayed  I  cried,  and  my  soul  cried  to  him  in  these 
words,  with  strong  cries:  "O  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  that 
thou  hast  loved  me  with  everlasting  love"  (Jer.  31  :  3).  I  had  no 
sooner  said  it,  than  with  sweetness  that  returned  upon  me  as  an  echo 
or  soundinof  aeain,  "I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlastincr  love." 

Now  I  went  to  bed  in  quiet ;  also,  when  awakened  the  next 
morning,  it  was  fresh  upon  my  soul,  and  I  believed  it.  But  yet  the 
tempter  left  me  not ;  for  it  could  not  be  so  little  as  an  hundred  times 
that  he  that  day  did  labor  to  break  my  peace.  Oh !  the  combats 
and  conflicts  that  I  did  then  meet  with;  as  I  strove  to  hold  by  this 
word,  that  of  Esau  would  fly  in  my  face  like  lightning.     I  should  be 


Life  of  Bunyan.  499 

sometimes  up  and  down  twenty  times  in  an  hour  ;  yet  God  did  bear 
me  out,  and  keep  my  heart  upon  this  word;  for  which  I  had  also,  for 
several  days  together,  very  much  sweetness  and  comfortable  hopes 
of  pardon  ;  for  thus  it  was  made  out  unto  me  :  I  loved  thee  whilst 
thou  wast  committing  this  sin,  I  loved  thee  before,  I  love  thee  still, 
and  I  will  love  thee  forever.  Yet  I  saw  my  sin  most  barbarous  and 
a  filthy  crime,  and  could  not  but  conclude,  with  great  shame  and 
astonishment,  that  I  had  horribly  abused  the  holy  Son  of  God, 
where  I  felt  my  soul  greatly  to  love  and  pity  him,  and  my  bowels  to 
yearn  towards  him  ;  for  I  saw  he  was  still  my  friend,  and  did  reward 
me  good  for  evil;  yea,  the  love  and  affection  that  then  did  burn 
within  me  to  my  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  did  work  at  this  time 
such  a  strong  and  hot  desire  of  revengement  upon  myself,  for  the 
abuse  I  had  done  unto  him,  that,  to  speak  as  I  then  thought,  had  I  a 
thousand  gallons  of  blood  within  my  veins,  I  could  freely  then  have 
spilled  it  all  at  the  command  and  feet  of  this  my  Lord  and  Saviour. 
And,  as  I  was  thus  musing  in  my  studies,  considering  how  to  love 
the  Lord,  and  to  express  my  love  to  him,  that  saying  came  in  upon 
me  :  "  If  thou,  Lord,  shouldst  mark  iniquities,  O  Lord,  who  should 
stand?  But  there  is  forgiveness  with  thee,  that  thou  mayest  be 
feared"  (Psalm  130:  3,  4).  These  were  good  words  to  me,  es- 
pecially the  latter  part  thereof,  to  wit,  that  there  is  forgiveness  with 
the  Lord,  that  he  might  be  feared ;  that  is,  as  I  then  understood  it,  that 
he  might  be  loved,  and  had  in  reverence;  for  it  was  thus  made  out  to 
me:  That  the  great  God  did  set  so  high  an  esteem  upon  the  love  of 
his  poor  creatures,  that  rather  than  he  would  go  without  their  love 
he  would  pardon  their  transgressions.  And  now  was  that  word  ful- 
filled to  me,  and  I  was  refreshed  by  it:  "Then  shalt  thou  remember 
and  be  confounded,  and  never  open  thy  mouth  any  more,  because  of 
thy  shame,  when  I  am  pacified  towards  thee  for  all  that  thou  hast 
done,  saith  the  Lord  God  "  (Ezek.  16:  63).  Thus  was  my  soul  at 
this  time,  and,  as  I  then  did  think,  forever  set  at  liberty  from  my 
former  guilt  and  amazement.  But  before  many  weeks  were  gone, 
I  began  to  despond  again,  fearing  lest,  notwithstanding  all  that  I  had 
enjoyed,  that  I  might  be  deserted  and  destroyed  at  the  last ;  for  this 
consideration  came  strong  into  my  mind  :  That  whatever  comfort  and 
peace  I  thought  I  might  have  from  the  word  of  the  promise  of  life, 
yet,  unless  there  could  be  found  in  my  refreshment  a  concurrence  and 
agreement  in  the  Scriptures,  let  me  think  what  I  will  thereof,  and 
hold  it  ever  so  fast,  I  should  find  no  such  thing  at  the  end  ;  for  the 
Scriptures  cannot  be  broken  (John  10  :  35), 


500  Life  of  Bunyan. 

Now  began  my  heart  to  ache,  and  fear  I  might  meet  with  dis- 
appointment at  last.  Wherefore  I  began  with  all  seriousness  to  exam- 
ine my  former  comfort,  and  to  consider  whether  one  that  had  sinned 
as  I  had  done  might  with  confidence  trust  upon  the  faithfulness  of 
God,  laid  down  in  these  words  by  which  I  had  been  comforted,  and 
on  which  I  had  leaned  myself,  but  now  were  brought  to  my  mind, 
"  For  it  is  impossible  for  those  who  were  once  enlightened,  and  have 
tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  and  were  made  partakers  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  have  tasted  the  good  word  of  God,  and  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come,  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to  renew  them  again  unto  re- 
pentance "  (Heb.  6  :  4,  6).  "  For  if  we  sin  wilfully  after  we  have  re- 
ceived the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  there  remains  no  more  sacrifice 
for  sin  ;  but  a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indig- 
nation, which  shall  devour  the  adversaries"  (Heb.  lo:  27),  even  as 
Esau,  who  for  one  morsel  of  meat  sold  his  birthright.  "  For  ye 
know  how  that  afterwards,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  bless- 
ing, he  was  rejected;  for  he  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he 
sought  it  carefully  with  tears"  (Heb.  12  :  17). 

Now  was  the  word  of  the  Gospel  forced  from  my  soul,   so  that 
no  promise  or  encouragement  was  to  be  found  in  the  Bible  for  me, 
and  now  would  that  saying  work  upon  my  mind  to  afflict  me,  "  Rejoice 
not,  O  Israel,  for  joy,  as  other  people"  (Hos.  9  :  i).      For  I  saw,  in-  | 
deed,  there  was  cause  of  rejoicing  for  those  that  held  to  Jesus;  but  ; 
for  me,  I  had  cut  myself  off  by  my  transgressions,  and  left  myself  ■ 
neither  foothold  nor  hand-hold  among  all  the  stays  and  props  of  the 
precious  word  of  life.     And  truly  I  did  now  fee'  myself  to  sink  into 
a  gulf,  as  a  house  whose  foundation  is  destroyed.     I  did  liken  myself  1 
in  this  condition  unto  the    case  of  a  child  that  was  fallen  into  a  mill- 
pit,  who  thought  it  could  make  some  shift  to  scramble  and  sprawl  in  1 
the  water  ;  yea,  because  it  could  neither  hold  hand  nor  foot,  therefore 
at  last  it  must  die  in   that  condition.     So  soon  as  this  fresh  assault 
had  fastened  on  my  soul,  that  Scripture  came  into  my  heart,   "This 
for  many  days  ;"  and,  indeed,  I  found  it  was  so  ;  for  I  could  not  be  deliv- 
ered nor  brought  to  peace  again  until  well-nigh  two  years  and  a  half 
were  completely  finished. 

Wherefore  these  words,  though  in  themselves  they  tended  to 
no  discouragement,  yet  to  me,  who  feared  this  condition  would  be 
eternal,  they  were  at  some  times  as  a  help  and  a  refreshment  to  me. 
For,  thought  I,  many  days  are  not  forever  ;  many  days  will  have  an 
end ;  therefore,  seeing  I  was  to  be  afflicted  not  a  few,  but  many 


Life  of  Bunyan.  501 

days,  yet  I  \.  .^  ^lad  it  was  but  for  many  days.  Thus,  I  say,  I  could 
recall  myself  sometimes  and  give  myself  a  help  ;  for  as  soon  as 
ever  the  word  came  into  my  mind,  at  first  I  knew  my  trouble  would 
be  long ;  yet  this  would  be  but  sometimes,  for  I  could  not  always 
think  on  this,  nor  even  be  helped  by  it,  though  I  did.  Now,  while 
the  Scriptures  lay  before  me,  and  laid  sin  anew  at  my  door,  that  say- 
ing in  Luke  i8  :  i,  with  others,  did  encourage  me  to  prayer.  Then 
the  tempter  again  laid  at  me  very  sore,  suggesting  that  neither  the 
mercy  of  God  nor  yet  the  blood  of  Christ  did  at  all  concern  me, 
nor  could  they  help  me  for  my  sin  ;  therefore  it  was  but  in  vain  to 
pray.  Yet,  thought  I,  I  will  pray.  But,  said  the  tempter,  your  sin 
is  unpardonable.  Well,  said  I,  I  will  pray.  It  is  to  no  boot,  said 
he.  Yet,  said  I,  I  will  pray.  So  I  went  to  prayer  to  God  ;  and 
while  I  was  at  prayer,  I  uttered  words  to  this  effect :  Lord,  Satan  tells 
me  that  neither  thy  mercy  nor  Christ's  blood  is  sufficient  to  save  my 
soul.  Lord,  shall  I  honor  thee  most  by  believing  thou  wilt,  and 
canst?  or  him,  by  believing  thou  wilt  not,  nor  canst?  Lord,  I  would 
fain  honor  thee  by  believing  thou  wilt  and  canst.  And,  as  I  was 
thus  before  the  Lord,  that  Scripture  fastened  on  my  heart:  "O  man 
great  is  thy  faith"  (Matt.  6  :  38),  even  as  if  one  had  clapped  me  on 
the  back  as  I  was  on  my  knees  before  God  ;  yet  I  was  not  able  to 
believe  this,  that  this  was  a  prayer  of  faith,  till  almost  six  months 
after ;  for  I  could  not  think  that  I  had  faith,  or  that  there  should  be 
a  word  for  me  to  act  faith  on  ;  therefore  I  should  still  be  as  sticking 
in  the  jaws  of  desperation,  and  went  mourning  up  and  down  in  a 
sad  condition. 

There  was  nothing  now  that  I  longed  for  more  than  to  be  put 
out  of  doubt  as  to  this  thing  in  question  ;  and  as  I  was  vehemently 
desiring  to  know  if  there  was,  indeed,  hope  for  me,  these  words 
came  rolling  into  my  mind  :  "  Will  the  Lord  cast  off  forever  ?  and 
will  he  be  favorable  no  more  ?  Is  his  mercy  clean  gone  forever  ? 
Doth  his  promise  fail  forevermore  ?  Hath  God  forgotten  to  be 
gracious?  Hath  he  in  anger  shut  up  his  tender  mercies  ?  "  (Psalm 
n  ■  7-9-)  Ai^d  all  the  while  they  run  in  my  mind,  methought  I 
had  still  this  as  the  answer  :  It  is  a  question  whether  he  hath  or  no  ; 
it  may  be  he  hath  not.  Yea,  the  interrogatory  seemed  to  me  to 
carry  in  it  a  sure  affirmation,  that  indeed  he  hath  not,  nor  would  so 
cast  off.  but  would  be  favorable  ;  that  his  promise  doth  not  fail,  and 
that  he  hath  not  forgotten  to  be  gracious,  nor  would  in  anger  shut 
up  his  tender  mercy.     Something  also  there  was  upon  my  heart  at 


602  Life  of  Bunyan. 

the  same  time,  which  I  cannot  now  call  to  mind,  with  which  this  text 
did  sweeten  my  heart,  and  make  me  conclude,  that  his  mercy  might 
not  be  quite  gone,  nor  gone  forever. 

At  another  time  I  remembered  I  was  again  much  under  this 
question,  Whether  the  blood  of  Christ  was  sufficient  to  save  my 
soul?  In  which  doubt  I  continued  from  morning  till  about  seven  or 
eight  at  night ;  and  at  last,  when  I  was  as  it  were  quite  worn  out  with 
fear,  lest  it  should  not  lay  hold  on  me,  these  words  did  sound  sud-* 
denly  within  my  heart.  He  is  able.  But  methought  this  word,  able, 
was  spoke  loud  unto  me ;  it  showed  a  great  word,  it  seemed  to  be 
writ  in  great  letters,  and  gave  such  a  jostle  to  my  fear  and  doubt  (I 
mean  for  the  time  it  tarried  with  me,  which  was  about  a  day)  as  I 
had  never  had  from  that  all  my  life,  either  before  or  after  (Heb. 

7-25)- 

But  one   morning,  as   I   was  again   at  prayer,   and  trembling 

under  the  fear  of  this.  That  no  word  of  God  could  help  me,  that 
piece  of  a  sentence  darted  in  upon  me.  My  grace  is  sufficient.  At 
this  methought  I  felt  some  stay,  as  if  there  might  be  hopes.  But, 
oh  !  how  good  a  thing  it  is  for  God  to  send  his  word !  for  about  a 
fortnight  before  I  was  looking  on  this  very  place,  and  then  I  thought 
it  could  not  come  near  my  soul  with  comfort  ;  therefore  I  threw 
down  my  book  in  a  pet.  Then  I  thought  it  was  not  large  enough  for 
me ;  no,  not  large  enough  ;  but  now  it  was  as  if  it  had  arms  of 
grace  so  wide  that  it  could  not  only  enclose  me,  but  many  more  be- 
sides. By  these  words  I  was  sustained,  yet  not  without  exceeding 
conflicts,  for  the  space  of  seven  or  eight  weeks ;  for  my  peace 
would  be  in  it,  and  out,  sometimes  twenty  times  a  day  ;  comfort  now, 
and  trouble  presently ;  peace  now,  and  before  I  could  go  a  furlong, 
as  full  of  fear  and  guilt  as  ever  heart  could  hold ;  and  this  was  not  1 
only  now  and  then,  but  my  whole  seven  weeks'  experience.  For  r 
this  about  the  sufficiency  of  grace,  and  that  of  Esau's  parting  with 
his  birthright,  would  be  like  a  pair  of  scales  within  my  mind ;  some- 
times one  end  would  be  uppermost,  and  sometimes  again  the  other ; 
according  to  which  would  be  my  peace  or  trouble. 

Therefore  I  did  still  pray  to  God  that  he  would  come  in  with  his 
Scripture  more  fnlly  on  my  heart;  to  wit,  that  he  would  help  me  to 
apply  the  whole  sentence,  for  as  yet  I  could  not.  What  he  gave,  that 
I  gathered  ;  but  further  I  could  not  go,  for  as  yet  it  only  helped  me 
to  hope  there  might  be  mercy  for  me.  My  grace  is  sufficient.  And 
though  it  came  no  further,  it  answered  my  former  question  ;  to  wit, 


Life  of  Dunyan.  603 

that  there  was  hope ;  yet,  because  for  thee,  was  left  out,  I  was  not 
contented,  but  prayed  to  God  for  that  also.  Wherefore  one  day, 
when  I  was  in  a  meeting  of  God's  people,  full  of  sadness  and  terror, 
for  my  fears  again  were  strong  upon  me,  and  as  I  was  now  thinking 
my  soul  was  never  the  better,  but  my  case  most  sad  and  fearful, 
these  words  did  with  great  power  suddenly  break  in  upon  me;  My 
grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  my  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  three  times 
together  !  And,  oh!  methought  that  every  word  was  a  mighty  word 
unto  me;  as  my,  and  grace,  and  sufficient,  and  for  thee;  they  were 
then,  and  sometimes  are  still,  far  bigger  than  others  be.  At  which 
time  my  understanding  was  so  enlightened,  that  I  was  as  though  I  had 
seen  the  Lord  Jesus  look  down  from  heaven,  through  the  tiles  upon 
me,  and  direct  these  words  unto  me.  This  sent  me  mourning  home; 
it  broke  my  heart  and  filled  me  full  of  joy,  and  laid  me  as  low  as  the 
dust;  only  it  stayed  not  long  with  me,  I  mean  in  this  glory,  and  '-efresh- 
ing  comfort ;  yet  it  continued  with  me  for  several  weeks,  and  did 
encourage  me  to  hope.  But  as  soon  as  that  powerful  operation  of 
it  was  taken  from  my  heart,  that  other  about  Esau  returned  upon 
me,  as  before ;  so  my  soul  did  hang  as  in  a  pair  of  scales  again, 
sometimes  up  and  sometimes  down  ;  now  in  peace,  and  anon  again 
in  terror. 

Thus  I  went  on  for  many  weeks,  sometimes  comforted  and  some- 
times tormented,  and  especially  sometimes  my  torment  would  be 
very  sore  ;  for  all  these  Scriptures  afore- named  in  the  Hebrews  would 
be  set  before  me,  as  the  only  sentences  that  would  keep  me  out  of 
heaven.  Then,  again,  I  would  begin  to  repent  that  ever  that  thought 
went  through  me  ;  I  would  also  think  this  with  myself:  Why,  how 
many  Scriptures  are  there  against  me  ?  There  are  but  three  or  four; 
and  cannot  God  miss  them  and  save  me  for  all  of  them  ?  Sometimes 
again,  I  would  think,  Oh  !  if  it  were  not  for  these  three  or  four  words, 
now,  how  might  I  be  comforted  !  And  I  could  hardly  forbear  at 
some  times  to  wish  them  out  of  the  book.  Then  methought  I  should 
see  as  if  both  Peter  and  Paul  and  John,  and  all  the  writers,  did  look 
with  scorn  upon  me,  and  hold  me  in  derision  ;  and  as  if  they  had  said 
unto  me.  All  our  words  are  truth,  one  of  as  much  force  as  the  other. 
It  is  not  we  that  have  cut  you  off,  but  you  have  cast  away  yourself. 
There  is  none  of  our  sentences  that  you  must  take  hold  upon  but 
these,  and  such  as  these:  It  is  impossible  (Heb.  5:  4);  There  remains 
no  more  sacrifice  for  sin  (Heb.  10.  26).  And  it  had  been  better  for 
them  not  to  have  known  the  wUl  of  God,  than  after  they  had  known 


604  Life  of  BunyaH. 

it,  to  turn  from  the  holy  commandment  delivered  unto  them  (2  Pet. 
2:  21).  For  the  Scriptures  cannot  be  broken  (John  10:  35).  These, 
the  elders  of  the  city  of  refuge,  I  saw  were  to  be  the  judges  both  of 
my  case  and  me,  while  I  stood  with  the  avenger  of  blood  at  my  heels, 
trembling  at  their  gate  for  deliverance  ;  also,  with  a  thousand  fears 
and  mistrusts,  I  doubted  that  he  would  shut  me  out  for  ever  (Joshua 
20:  3,  4).  Thus  was  I  confounded,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  or 
how  to  be  satisfied  in  this  question,  whether  the  Scriptures  could 
agree  on  the  salvation  of  my  soul  ?  I  quaked  at  the  apostles  ;  I  knew 
their  words  were  true,  and  that  they  must  stand  forever. 

And  I  remember  one  day,  as  I  was  in  divers  frames  of  spirit, 
and  considering  that  these  frames  were  according  to  the  nature  of 
several  Scriptures  that  came  in  upon  my  mind:  If  this  of  grace,  then 
was  I  quiet;  but  that  of  Esau,  then  tormented.  Lord,  thought  I,  if 
both  these  Scriptures  should  meet  in  my  heart  at  once,  I  wonder 
which  of  them  would  get  the  better  of  me.  So  metliought  I  had  a 
longing  mind  that  they  might  both  come  together  upon  me;  yea,  I 
desired  of  God  they  might.  Well,  about  two  or  three  days  after,  so 
they  did  indeed;  they  bolted  both  upon  me  at  a  time,  and  did  work 
and  struggle  strongly  in  me  for  a  while;  at  last  that  about  Esau's 
birthright  began  to  wax  weak  and  withdraw  and  vanish  ;  and  this 
about  the  sufficiency  of  grace  prevailed  with  peace  and  joy.  And,  as 
I  was  in  a  muse  about  this  thing,  that  Scripture  came  in  upon  me, 
"Mercy  rejoiceth  against  judgment"  (James  2:  13).  This  was  a 
wonderment  to  me  ;  yet,  truly  I  am  apt  to  think  it  was  God  ;  for  the 
word  of  the  law  and  wrath  must  give  place  to  the  word  of  life  and 
grace  ;  because,  though  the  word  of  conderrmation  be  glorious,  yet 
the  word  of  life  and  salvation  doth  far  exceed  in  glory  (2  Cor.  3:  8- 
11).  Also,  that  Moses  and  Elias  must  both  vanish  and  leave  Christ 
and  his  saints  alone. 

This  Scripture  did  also  most  sweetly  visit  my  soul  :  "  And  him 
that  Cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  "  (John  6:  '^']).  Oh !  the 
comfort  that  I  had  found  from  this  word.  In  no  wise  !  As  who  should 
say,  By  no  means,  for  nothing,  whatever  he  hath  done.  But  Satan 
would  greatly  labor  to  pull  this  promise  from  me,  by  telling  of  me. 
That  Christ  did  not  mean  me  and  such  as  I,  but  sinners  of  a  lower 
rank,  that  had  not  done  as  I  had  done.  But  I  would  answer  him 
again,  Satan,  here  is  in  these  words  no  such  exception  ;  but  him  that 
comes,  him,  any  him  ;  "him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast 
out. "     And  this  I  well  remember  still,  that  of  all  the  sleights  that  Satan 


Life  of  Bunyan,  605 

tise4  to  take  this  Scripture  from  me,  yet  he  never  did  so  much  as  put 
this  question,  But  do  you  come  aright?  And  I  have  thought  the 
reason  was,  because  he  thought  I  knew  full  well  what  coming  aright 
was  ;  for  I  saw  that  to  come  aright  was  to  come  as  I  was,  a  vile  and 
ungodly  sinner,  and  so  cast  myself  at  the  feet  of  mercy,  condemning 
myself  for  sin.  If  ever  Satan  and  I  did  strive  for  any  word  of  God 
in  all  my  life,  it  was  for  this  good  word  of  Christ ;  he  at  one  end,  and 
I  at  the  other.  Oh  !  what  work  we  made !  It  was  for  this  in  John,  I 
say,  that  we  did  so  tug  and  strive.  He  pulled,  and  I  pulled  ;  but,  God 
be  praised,  I  overcame  him ;  I  got  sweetness  from  it. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  these  helps  and  blessed  words  of  grace, 
yet  that  of  Esau's  selling  his  birthright  would  still  at  times  distress 
my  conscience;  for  though  I  had  been  most  sweetly  comforted,  and 
that  but  just  before,  yet  when  that  came  into  my  mind  it  would  make 
me  fear  again.  I  could  not  quite  be  rid  thereof,  it  would  every  day 
be  with  me.  Wherefore  now  I  went  another  way  to  work,  even  to 
consider  the  nature  of  this  blasphemous  thought ;  I  mean,  if  I  should 
take  the  words  at  the  largest,  and  give  them  their  own  natural  force 
and  scope,  even  every  word  therein. 

So  when  I  had  thus  considered,  I  found  that  if  they  were  fairly 
taken  they  would  amount  to  this  :  That  I  had  freely  left  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  to  his  choice,  whether  he  would  be  my  Saviour  or  no ; 
for  the  wicked  words  were  these.  Let  him  go,  if  he  will.  Then  the 
Scripture  gave  me  hope :  "I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee" 
(Heb.  13:  5).  O  Lord!  said  I,  but  I  have  left  thee.  Then  it  an- 
swered aeain,  "  But  I  will  not  leave  thee."  For  this  I  thanked  God 
also.  Yet  I  was  grievously  afraid  he  should,  and  found  it  exceeding 
hard  to  trust  him,  seeing  I  had  so  offended  him.  I  could  have  been 
exceeding  glad  that  this  thought  had  never  befallen  ;  for  then  I 
thought  I  could  with  more  ease  and  freedom  in  abundance  have 
leaned  on  his  grace.  I  saw  that  it  was  with  me  as  it  was  with 
Joseph's  brethren ;  the  guilt  of  their  own  wickedness  did  often  fill 
them  with  fears  that  their  brother  would  at  last  despise  them  (Gen. 
45  :  4).  Yet  above  all  the  Scriptures  that  I  yet  did  meet  with,  that 
in  Joshua  20  was  the  greatest  comfort  to  me,  which  speaks  of  the 
slayer  that  was  to  flee  for  refuge.  And  if  the  avenger  of  blood 
pursue  the  slayer,  then,  said  Joshua,  they  that  are  the  elders  of  the 
city  of  refuge  shall  not  deliver  him  into  his  hands,  because  he  smote 
his  neighbor  unwittingly,  and  hated  him  not  aforetime  (Joshua  20 :  5). 
Oh !  blessed  be  God  for  his  word.     I  was  convinced  that  I  was  the 


b06  Life  of  Btmyan. 

slayer,  and  that  the  avenger  of  blood  pursued  me,  I  felt  wiih  great 
terror;  only  now  remained  that  I  inquire  whether  I  have  right  to 
enter  the  city  of  refuge.  So  I  found  that  he  must  not  "  who  lay  in 
wait  to  shed  blood."  It  was  not  the  wilful  murderer,  but  he  wiio 
unwittingly  did  it,  he  who  did  it  unawares  ;  not  out  of  spite,  or 
grudge,  or  malice ;  he  that  shed  it  unwittingly  ;  even  he  who  did 
not  hate  his  neighbor  before. 

Wherefore  I  thought  verily  I  was  the  man  that  must  enter,  be- 
cause I  had  smitten  my  neighbor  "unwittingly  and  hated  him  not 
aforetime."  No,  I  prayed  unto  him,  was  tender  of  sirming  against 
him  ;  yea,  and  against  this  wicked  temptation  I  had  strove  for  twelve 
months  before ;  yea,  and  also  when  it  did  pass  through  my  heart,  it 
did  it  in  spite  of  my  teeth.  Wherefore  I  thought  I  had  a  right  to 
enter  this  city  ;  and  the  elders,  which  are  the  apostles,  were  not  to 
deliver  me  up.  This,  therefore,  was  great  comfort  to  me,  and  gave 
me  much  ground  of  hope.  Yet  being  very  critical,  for  my  smart  had 
made  me  so  that  I  knew  not  what  ground  was  sure  enough  to  bear 
me,  I  had  one  question  that  my  soul  did  much  desire  to  be  resolved 
about,  and  that  was.  Whether  it  be  possible  for  any  soul  that  had 
sinned  the  unpardonable  sin,  yet,  after  that  to  receive,  though  but 
the  least  true  spiritual  comfort  from  God  through  Christ?  The 
which,  after  I  had  much  considered,  1  found  the  answer  was,  No, 
they  could  not,  and  that  for  these  reasons :  First,  because  those 
that  have  sinned  that  sin,  they  are  debarred  a  share  in  the  blood  of 
Christ;  but  being  shut  out  of  that,  they  must  needs  be  void  of  the 
least  ground  of  hope,  and  so  in  spiritual  comfort,  "  For  to  such  there 
remains  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin  (Heb.  lo:  26).  Secondly,  because 
they  are  denied  the  promise  of  life,  "  They  shall  never  be  forgiven, 
neither  in  this  world  nor  in  that  which  is  to  come"  (Matt.  12  :  32). 
Thirdly,  the  Son  of  God  excludes  them  also  from  a  share  in  his 
blessed  intercession,  being  forever  ashamed  to  own  them,  both 
before  his  Holy  Father  and  the  blessed  angels  in  heaven   (Mark 

8=38). 

When  I  had  with  much  deliberation  considered  of  this  matter,  and 

could  not  but  conclude  that  the  Lord  had  comforted  me,  and  that  too 
after  this  my  wicked  sin ;  then  methought  I  durst  venture  to  come  nigh' 
unto  those  most  fearful  and  terrible  Scriptures,  with  which  all  this  while 
I  had  been  so  greatly  affrighted,  and  on  which,  indeed,  before  I  durst 
cast  mine  eye  (yea,  had  much  ado  an  hundred  times  to  forbear  wish- 
ing them  out  of  the  Bible),  for  I  thought  they  would  destroy  me; 


Life  of  Biinyan.  507 

but  now,  I  say.  I  began  to  take  seme  measure  of  encouragement  to 
come  close  to  them,  to  read  them,  and  consider  of  them,  and  to  weigh 
their  scope  and  tendency.  The  which,  when  I  began  to  do,  I  found 
my  visage  changed  ;  for  they  looked  not  so  grimly  as  before  I  thought 
they  did. 

And  first  I  came  to  the  sixth  of  Hebrews,  yet  trembling  for  fear 
it  should  strike  me ;  which,  when  I  had  considered,  I  found  that  the 
falling  there  intended  was  a  falling  quite  away ;  that  is,  as  I  conceived, 
a  falling  from,  and  absolute  denying  of,  the  Gospel  of  remission  of 
sins  by  Jesus  Christ ;  for  from  them  the  apostle  begins  his  argument 
(Heb.  6:  4-6).  Secondly,  I  found  that  this  falling  away  must  be 
openly,  even  in  the  view  of  the  world,  even  so  as  "  to  put  Christ  to 
an  open  shame."  Thirdly,  I  found  that  those  he  there  intended  were 
forever  shut  up  of  God,  both  in  blindness  and  impenitency  :  'Tt  is 
impossible  they  should  be  renewed  again  unto  repentance."  By  all 
these  particulars,  I  found,  to  God's  everlasting  praise,  my  sin  was  not 
the  sin  in  this  place  intended. 

First. — I  confessed  I  was  fallen,  but  not  fallen  away ;  that  is, 
from  the  profession  of  faith  in  Jesus  unto  eternal  life. 

Secondly. — I  confessed  that  I  had  put  Jesus  Christ  to  shame  by 
my  sin,  but  not  to  open  shame ;  I  did  not  deny  him  before  man,  nor 
condemn  him  as  a  fruitless  one  before  the  world. 

Thirdly. — Nor  did  I  find  that  God  had  shut  me  up,  or  denied  me 
to  come  (though  I  found  it  hard  work  indeed  to  come)  to  him  by  sor- 
row and  repentance.     Blessed  be  God  for  unsearchable  grace. 

Then  I  considered  that  in  the  tenth  chapter  of  the  Hebrews,  and 
found  that  the  wilful  sin  there  mentioned  is  not  every  wilful  sin,  hut 
that  which  doth  throw  off  Christ,  and  then  his  commandments  too. 
Secondly,  that  must  be  done  also  openly,  before  two  or  three  wit- 
nesses, to  answer  that  of  the  law  (Heb.  10:  20).  Thirdly,  this  sin 
cannot  be  committed  but  with  great  despite  done  to  the  Spirit  of 
grace ;  despising  both  the  dissuasions  from  that  sin  and  the  persua- 
sions to  the  contrary.  But  the  Lord  knows  though  this  my  sin  was 
devilish,  yet  it  did  not  amount  to  these.  And  as  touching  that  in 
the  twelfth  chapter  of  the  Hebrews,  about  Esau's  selling  of  his  birth- 
right, though  this  was  that  which  killed  me,  and  stood  like  a  spear 
against  me,  yet  now  I  did  consider,  First,  that  his  was  not  a  hasty 
thought  against  the  continual  labor  of  his  mind,  but  a  thought  con- 
sented to,  and  put  in  practice  likewise,  and  that  after  some  deliber-^ 
ation  (Gen.  25:  34).     Secondly,  it  was  a  public  and  open  action, 


608  Life  of  Bunyan. 

even  before  his  brother,  if  not  before  many  more ;  this  made  his  sin 
of  a  far  more  heinous  nature  than  otherwise  it  would  have  been. 
Thirdly,  he  continued  to  slight  his  birthright ;  yea,  twenty  years  after, 
he  was  found  to  despise  it  still :  "And  Esau  said,  I  have  enough,  my 
brother;  keep  that  thou  hast  unto  thyself"  (Gen,  33  :  9), 

Now,  as  touching  this,  that  Esau  sought  a  place  of  repentance. 
Thus  I  thought :  First,  this  was  not  for  the  birthright,  but  the  bless- 
ing ;  this  is  clear  from  the  apostle,  and  is  distinguished  by  Esau  him- 
self;  he  hath  taken  away  my  birthright  (that  is,  formerly),  and  now 
he  hath  taken  away  my  blessing  also  (Gen.  27:  36).  Secondly, 
now  this  being  thus  considered,  I  came  again  to  the  apostle,  to  see 
what  might  be  the  mind  of  God,  in  a  New  Testament  style  and  sense, 
concerning  Esau's  sin  ;  and,  so  far  as  I  could  conceive,  this  was  the 
mind  of  God :  that  the  birthright  signified  regeneration,  and  the 
blessing  the  eternal  inheritance  ;  for  so  the  apostle  seems  to  hint: 
'*  Lest  there  be  any  profane  person,  as  Esau,  who,  for  a  morsel  of 
meat,  sold  his  birthright ; "  as  if  he  should  say,  that  shall  cast  off  all 
those  blessed  beginnings  of  God  that  at  present  are  upon  him,  in 
order  to  a  new  birth ;  lest  they  become  as  Esau,  even  be  rejected 
afterwards,  when  they  should  inherit  the  blessing.  For  many  there 
are,  who  in  the  day  of  grace  and  mercy  despise  those  things  which 
are  indeed  the  birthright  to  heaven  ;  who  yet,  when  the  declining  day 
appears,  will  cry  as  loud  as  Esau,  "  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us  ; "  but 
then  as  Isaac  would  not  repent,  no  more  will  God  the  Father,  but 
will  say,  "  I  have  blessed  these,  yea,  and  they  shall  be  blessed " 
(Gen.  27:  -^T^)  ;  but  as  for  you,  "Depart,  you  are  the  workers  of 
iniquity"   (Luke  13  :  25-37). 

When  I  had  thus  considered  these  Scriptures,  and  found  that 
thus  to  understand  them  was  not  against,  but  according  to  other 
Scriptures,  this  still  added  further  to  my  encouragement  and  com- 
fort, and  also  gave  a  great  blow  to  that  objection,  to  wit,  that  the 
Scriptures  could  not  agree  in  the  salvation  of  my  soul.  And  now 
remained  only  the  hinder  part  of  the  tempest,  for  the  thunder  was 
gone  beyond  me,  only  some  drops  did  still  remain,  but  now  and  then 
would  fall  upon  me  ;  but,  because  my  former  frights  and  anguish  were 
very  sore  and  deep,  therefore  it  oft  befell  me  still,  as  it  befalleth 
those  that  have  been  scared  with  fire.  I  thought  every  voice  was, 
Fire  !  fire  !  every  little  touch  would  hurt  my  tender  conscience.  But 
one  day,  as  I  was  passing  into  the  field,  and  that  too  with  some  dashes 
on  my  conscience,  fearing  lest  yet  all  was  not  right,  suddenly  this 


Life  of  Bunyan.  509 

sentence  fell  upon  my  soul:  "Thy  righteousness  is  in  heaven."  And 
methought  withal,  I  saw,  with  the  eyes  of  my  soul,  Jesus  Christ  at 
God's  right  hand ;  there,  I  say,  was  my  righteousness  ;  so  that  where- 
ever  I  was,  or  whatever  I  was  doing,  God  could  not  say  of  me,  he 
wants  my  righteousness;  for  that  was  just  before  him.  I  also  saw, 
moreover,  that  it  was  not  my  good  frame  of  heart  that  made  my 
righteousness  better,  nor  yet  my  bad  frame  that  made  my  righteous 
ness  worse  ;  for  my  righteousness  was  Jesus  Christ  himself,  "  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever  "   (Heb.  13  :  8.) 

Now  did  my  chains  fall  off  my  legs  indeed  ;  I  was  loosed  from 
my  afflictions  and  irons;  my  temptations  also  fled  away;  so  that 
from  that  time,  those  dreadful  Scriptures  of  God  left  off  to  trouble 
me.  Now  went  I  also  home  rejoicing,  for  the  grace  and  the  love  of 
God;  so  when  I  came  home,  I  looked  to  see  if  I  could  find  that 
sentence,  "  Thy  righteousness  is  in  heaven,"  but  could  find  no  such 
a  saying;  wherefore  my  heart  began  to  sink  again,  only  that  was 
brought  to  my  remembrance  (i  Cor.  i:  30),  "He  is  made  unto  us  of 
God,  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption;"  by 
\liis  word  I  saw  the  other  sentence  true.  For  by  this  Scripture  I 
jaw  that  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  as  he  is  distinct  from  us  as  touching 
his  bodily  presence,  so  he  is  our  righteousness  and  sanctification  be- 
fore God.  Here,  therefore,  I  lived  for  some  time,  very  sweetly  at 
peace  with  God,  through  Christ.  Oh !  methought,  Christ !  Christ ! 
there  was  nothing  but  Christ  that  was  before  my  eyes ;  I  was  not 
now  (only)  for  looking  upon  this  and  the  other  benefit  of  Christ 
apart,  as  of  his  blood,  burial,  or  resurrection  ;  but  considering  him 
as  a  whole  Christ ;  as  he  in  whom  all  these  and  all  other  virtues,  re- 
lations, offices,  and  operations,  met  together,  and  that  he  sat  on  the 
right  hand  of  God  in  heaven. 

It  was  glorious  to  me  to  see  his  exaltation,  and  the  worth  and 
prevalency  of  all  his  benefits,  and  that  because  now  I  could  look 
from  myself  to  him,  and  would  reckon  that  all  those  graces  of  God 
that  now  were  green  on  me,  were  yet  but  like  those  cracked  groats 
and  four-pence-halfpennies,  that  rich  men  carry  in  their  purses  when 
their  gold  is  in  their  trunks  at  home.  Oh !  I  saw  my  gold  was  in 
my  trunk  at  home !  in  Christ,  my  Lord  and  Saviour.  Now  Christ 
was  all;  all  my  righteousness,  all  my  sanctification,  and  all  my  re- 
demption. Further,  the  Lord  did  also  lead  me  into  the  mystery  of 
union  with  the  Son  of  God  ;  that  I  was  joined  to  him,  that  I  was  fiesh  of 
his  flesh,  and  bone  of  his  bone  ;  and  now  was  that  a  sweet  word  to  me 


510  Life  of  Bunyan. 

in  Ephes.  5:  30.  By  this  also  was  my  faith  in  him,  as  my  righteous- 
ness, the  more  confirmed  in  me ;  for  if  he  and  I  were  one,  then  his 
righteousness  was  mine,  his  merits  mine,  his  victory  also  mine. 
Now  could  I  see  myself  in  heaven  and  earth  at  once  ;  in  heaven  by 
my  Christ,  by  my  head,  by  my  righteousness  and  life,  though  on 
earth  by  my  body  or  person.  Now  I  saw  Christ  Jesus  was  looked 
upon  of  God,  and  should  also  be  looked  upon  by  us  as  that  com- 
mon or  public  person,  in  whom  all  the  whole  body  of  his  elect  are 
always  to  be  considered  and  reckoned ;  that  we  fulfilled  the  law  by 
him,  rose  from  the  dead  by  him,  got  the  victory  over  sin,  death,  the 
devil,  and  hell  by  him ;  when  he  died,  we  died  ;  and  so  of  his  resur- 
rection, "  Thy  dead  men  shall  live;  together  with  my  dead  body 
shall  they  rise"  (Isaiah  26),  saith  he.  And  again,  "After  two 
days  he  will  revive  us  ;  and  the  third  day  we  shall  live  in  his  sight" 
(Hosea  6:  2).  Which  is  now  fulfilled,  by  the  sitting  down  of  the 
Son  of  man  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens, 
according  to  that  to  the  Ephesians,  he  "  hath  raised  us  up  together, 
and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus"  (Ephes. 
2:  6).  Ah!  these  blessed  considerations  and  Scriptures,  with  many 
others  of  like  nature,  were  in  those  days  made  to  spangle  in  mine 
eye  ;  so  that  I  have  cause  to  say,  "  Praise  ye  the  Lord  God  in  his 
sanctuary;  praise  him  in  the  firmament  of  his  power;  praise  him 
for  his  mighty  acts  ;  praise  him  according  to  his  excellent  greatness" 
(Psalm  105:  I,  2). 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I AVING  thus,  in  few  words,  given  you  a  taste  of  the  sor- 
row and  affliction  that  my  soul  went  under,  by  the  guih 
and  terror  that  these  my  wicked  thoughts  did  lay  me 
under,  and  having  given  you  also  a  touch  of  my  deliv- 
erance therefrom,  and  of  the  sweet  and  blessed  comfort 
that  I  met  with  afterwards,  which  comfort  dwelt  about  a  twelve- 
month with  my  heart,  to  my  unspeakable  admiration,  I  will  now 
(God  willing),  before  I  proceed  any  farther,  give  you,  in  a  word  or 
two,  what  I  conceive  was  the  cause  of  this  temptation  ;  and  also 
after  that,  what  advantage  at  the  last  it  became  unto  my  soul.  For 
the  causes,  I  conceived  they  were  principally  two  ;  of  which  two  also 
I  was  deeply  convinced  all  the  time  this  trouble  lay  upon  me.  The 
first  was,  for  that  I  did  not,  when  I  was  delivered  from  the  tempta- 
tion that  went  before,  still  pray  to  God  to  keep  me  from  the  tempta- 
tions that  were  to  come  ;  for  though,  as  I  can  say  in  truth,  my  soul  was 
mucL  in  prayer  before  this  trial  seized  me,  yet  then  I  prayed  only, 
or  at  the  most  principally,  for  the  removal  of  present  troubles,  and 
for  fresh  discoveries  of  his  love  in  Christ,  which  I  saw  afterwards 
was  not  enough  to  do  ;  I  also  should  have  prayed  that  the  great 
God  would  keep  me  from  the  evil  that  was  to  come.  Of  this  I  was 
made  deeply  sensible  by  the  prayer  of  holy  David,  who,  when  he 
was  under  present  mercy,  yet  prayed  that  God  would  hold  him  back 
from  sin  and  temptation  to  come:  "For  then  (saith  he)  shall  I  be 
upright,  and  I  shall  be  innocent  from  the  great  transgression " 
(Psalm  19:  13).  By  this  very  word  was  I  galled  and  condemned 
quite,  through  this  long  temptation.  This  was  also  another  word 
that  did  much  condemn  my  folly,  in  the  neglect  of  this  duty  (Heb. 
4:  16):  ''Let  us,  therefore,  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace 
that  we  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need." 
This  I  had  not  done,  and  therefore  was  thus  suffered  to  sin  and  fall, 
according  to  what  is  written:  "Pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temp- 
tation." 

And  truly  this  very  thing  is  to  this  day  of  such  a  weight  and 
awe,  that  I  dare  not,  when  I  come  before  the  Lord,  go  off  my  knees, 
until  I  entreat  him  for  help  and  mercy  against  the  temptations  thai 

(611) 


512  Life  of  Bunyan. 

are  to  come.  I  do  beseech  thee,  reader,  that  thou  learn  to  beware  o! 
my  negligence,  by  the  afflictions  that  for  this  thing  I  did  for  days,  and 
months,  and  years,  with  sorrow  undergo. 

Another  cause  of  this  temptation  was,  that  I  had  tempted  God ; 
and  on  this  manner  did  I  do  it.  Upon  a  time  my  wife  was  great  with 
child,  and  before  her  full  time  was  come,  her  pangs,  as  of  a  women 
m  travail,  were  fierce  and  strong  upon  her,  even  as  she  would  have 
immediately  fallen  into  labor  and  been  delivered  of  an  untimely 
birth.  Now  at  this  time  it  was  that  I  had  been  so  strongly  tempted  to 
question  the  being  of  God  ;  wherefore,  as  my  wife  lay  crying  by  me, 
I  said,  but  with  all  secrecy  imaginable,  even  thinking  in  my  heart, 
"  Lord,  if  now  thou  wilt  remove  this  sad  affliction  from  my  wife,  and 
cause  that  she  be  troubled  no  more  therewith  this  night  (and  now 
were  her  pangs  just  upon  her),  then  shall  I  know  that  thou  canst 
discern  the  most  sacred  thoughts  of  the  heart." 

I  had  no  sooner  said  it  in  my  heart,  but  her  pangs  were  taken 
from  her,  and  she  was  cast  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  so  continued  till 
morning.  At  this  I  greatly  marvelled,  not  knowing  what  to  think ; 
but  after  I  had  been  awake  a  good  while,  and  heard  her  cry  no  more, 
I  fell  asleep  also.  So  when  I  awaked  in  the  morning,  it  came  to  me 
again,  even  what  I  had  said  in  my  heart  last  night,  and  how  the  Lord 
had  showed  me  that  he  knew  my  secret  thoughts,  which  was  a  great 
astonishment  unto  me  for  several  weeks  after. 

Well  about  a  year  and  a  half  afterwards,  that  wicked  sinful  thought 
of  which  I  have  spoken  before,  went  through  my  wicked  heart.  Let 
Christ  go,  if  he  will.  So  when  I  was  fallen  under  guilt  for  this,  the 
remembrance  of  my  other  thought,  and  of  the  effect  thereof,  would 
also  come  upon  me  with  this  retort,  which  also  carried  rebuke  along 
with  it.  Now  you  may  see  that  God  doth  know  the  most  secret  thoughts 
of  the  heart.  And  with  this,  that  of  the  passages  that  were  betwixt 
the  Lord  and  his  servant  Gideon,  fell  upon  my  spirit ;  how  because 
that  Gideon  tempted  God  with  his  fleece,  both  wet  and  dry,  when  he 
should  have  believed  and  ventured  upon  his  words  ;  therefore  the 
Lord  did  afterwards  so  try  him  as  to  send  him  against  an  innumer- 
able company  of  enemies,  and  that  too,  as  to  outward  appearance, 
without  any  strength  or  help  (Judges  7  :  7).  Thus  he  served  me, 
and  that  justly ;  for  I  should  have  believed  his  word,  and  not  have 
put  an  if  upon  the  all-seeingness  of  God. 

And  now  to  show  you  something  of  the  advantages  that  I  also 
gained  by  this  temptation.  And  first,  by  this  I  was  made  continually 


Life  of  Bunyan.  513 

to  possess  in  my  soul  a  very  wonderful  sense  both  of  the  blessing  and 
glory  of  God,  and  of  his  beloved  Son  ;  in  the  temptation  that  went 
before,  my  soul  was  perplexed  with  unbelief,  blasphemy,  hardness 
of  heart,  question  about  the  being  of  God,  Christ,  the  truth  of  the 
word,  and  certainty  of  the  world  to  come.  I  say,  then  I  was  greatly 
assaulted  and  tormented  with  atheism  ;  but  now  the  case  was  other- 
wise ;  now  was  God  and  Christ  continually  before  my  face,  though 
not  in  a  way  of  comfort,  but  in  a  way  of  exceeding  dread  and  ter- 
ror. The  glory  of  the  holiness  of  God  did  at  this  time  break  me  to 
pieces ;  the  bowels  and  compassion  of  Christ  did  break  me  on  the 
wheel  ;  for  I  could  not  consider  him  but  as  a  lost  and  rejected  Christ, 
the  remembrance  of  which  was  as  the  continual  breaking  of  my 
bones. 

The  Scriptures  also  were  wonderful  things  unto  me ;  I  saw  that 
the  truth  and  verity  of  them  were  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ; 
those  that  the  Scriptures  favor,  they  must  inherit  bliss ;  but  those 
that  they  oppose  and  condemn,  must  perish  forevermore.  Oh !  this 
word,  For  the  Scriptures  cannot  be  broken,  would  rend  the  caul  of 
my  heart ;  and  so  would  that  other.  Whose  sins  ye  remit,  they  are 
remitted;  but  those  sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained.  Now  I  saw 
the  apostles  to  be  the  elders  of  the  city  of  refuge  (Joshua  20  :  4). 
Those  that  they  were  to  receive  in,  were  received  to  life  ;  but  those 
that  they  shut  out,  were  to  be  slain  by  the  avenger  of  blood.  Oh  ! 
one  sentence  of  the  Scripture  did  more  afflict  and  terrify  my  mind;  I 
mean  those  sentences  that  stood  against  me  (and  sometimes  I 
thought  they  every  one  did)  ;  more,  I  say,  than  an  army  of  forty 
thousand  men  that  might  come  against  me.  Woe  be  to  him  against 
whom  the  Scriptures  bend  themselves  !  By  this  temptation  I  was 
made  to  see  more  into  the  nature  of  the  promises  than  ever  I  had 
before  ;  for  I  now  lay  trembling  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  con- 
tinually torn  and  rent  by  the  thundering  of  his  justice.  This  made 
me,  with  careful  heart  and  watchful  eye,  with  great  fearfulness,  to 
turn  over  every  leaf,  and  with  much  diligence,  mixed  with  trembling, 
to  consider  every  sentence,  together  with  its  natural  force  and  latitude. 

By  this  temptation,  also,  I  was  greatly  holden  off  from  my  former 
foolish  practice  of  putting  by  the  word  of  promise  when  it  came  into 
my  mind ;  for  now,  though  I  could  not  suck  that  comfort  and  sweet- 
ness from  the  promise,  as  I  had  done  at  other  times,  yet,  like  to  a 
man  a  sinking,  I  would  catch  at  all  I  saw.  Formerly  I  thought  I  might 
not  meddle  with  the   promise   unless  I  felt  its   comfort ;  but  now  it 

33 


514  Life  of  Bmiyatv 

was  no  time  thus  to  do ;   the  avenger  of  blood  too  hardly  did  pur- 
sue me. 

Now,  therefore,  was  I  glad  to  catch  at  the  word,  which  yet  I 
feared  I  had  no  ground  or  right  to  own,  and  even  to  leap  into  the 
bosom  of  that  promise  that  yet  I  feared  did  shut  his  heart  against 
me.  Now,  also,  I  would  labor  to  take  the  word  as  God  hath  laid  it 
down,  without  restraining  the  natural  force  thereof.  Oh!  what  did  I 
see  in  the  blessed  sixth  chapter  of  St.  John  :  "And  him  that  cometh 
to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out"  (John  6:  t^"]).  Now  I  began  to 
consider  with  myself  that  God  had  a  bigger  mouth  to  speak  with 
than  I  had  a  heart  to  conceive  with ;  I  thought  also,  with  myself,  that 
he  spake  not  his  words  in  haste,  or  in  an  unadvised  heat,  but  with 
infinite  wisdom  and  judgment,  and  in  very  truth  and  faithfulness  (2 
Sam.  3:  28). 

I  would,  in  these  days,  often  in  my  greatest  agonies,  even  flounce 
towards  the  promise  (as  the  horses  do  towards  some  ground,  and 
yet  stick  in  the  mire),  concluding  (though  as  one  almost  bereft  of 
his  wits  throuo-h  fear),  on  this  will  I  rest  and  stay,  and  leave  the  ful- 
filling of  it  to  the  God  of  heaven  that  made  it.  Oh  !  many  a  pull 
hath  my  heart  had  with  Satan  for  that  blessed  sixth  chapter  of  St 
John.  I  did  not  now>  as  at  other  times,  look  principally  for  comforv 
(though,  oh!  how  welcome  would  it  have  been  unto  me!),  but  now  a 
word,  a  word  to  lean  a  weary  soul  upon,  that  it  might  not  sink  for- 
ever !  it  was  that  I  hunted  for.  Yea,  often  when  I  have  been  making 
to  the  promise,  I  have  seen  as  if  the  Lord  would  refuse  my  soul  for- 
ever ;  I  was  often  as  if  I  had  run  upon  the  pikes,  and  as  if  the  Lord 
had  thrust  at  me  to  keep  me  from  him,  as  with  a  flaming  sword. 
Then  would  I  think  of  Esther,  who  went  to  petition  the  king,  contrary 
to  the  law  (Esther  4:  16).  I  thought  also  of  Benhadad's  servants, 
who  went  with  ropes  upon  their  heads  to  their  enemies  for  mercy 
(i  Kings  20:  31).  The  woman  of  Canaan  also,  that  would  not  be 
daunted,  though  called  dog  by  Christ  (Matt.  15:  22),  and  the  man 
that  went  to  borrow  bread  at  midnight  (Luke  i:  5-8),  were  also  great 
encouragements  unto  me. 

I  never  saw  those  heights  and  depths  in  grace  and  love  and 
mercy  as  I  saw  after  this  temptation  ;  great  sins  to  draw  out  great 
grace ;  and  where  guilt  is  most  terrible  and  fierce,  there  the  mercy 
of  God  in  Christ,  when  showed  to  the  soul,  appears  most  high  and 
mighty.  When  Job  had  passed  through  his  captivity,  he  had  twice  as 
much  as  he  had  before  (Job  42:  10).     Blessed  be  God  for  Jesus  Christ 


Life  of  Bunyan.  51 


K 


our  Lord.  Many  other  things  I  might  here  make  observation  of,  but 
I  would  be  brief,  and  therefore  shall  at  this  time  omit  them,  and  pray 
to  God  that  my  harms  may  make  others  fear  to  offend,  lest  they  also 
be  made  to  bear  the  iron  yoke  as  I  did.  I  had  two  or  three  times,  at 
or  about  my  deliverance  from  this  temptation,  such  strange  appre- 
hension of  the  grace  of  God  that  I  could  hardly  bear  up  under  it; 
it  was  so  out  of  measure  amazing  when  I  thought  it  could  reach  me, 
that  I  do  think  if  that  sense  had  abode  long  upon  me,  it  would  have 
made  me  incapable  for  business. 

Now  I  shall  go  forward  to  give  you  a  relation  of  other  of  the 
Lord's  dealings  with  me  at  sundry  other  seasons,  and  of  the  temp- 
tations I  then  did  meet  withal.  1  shall  begin  with  what  I  met 
with  when  first  I  did  join  in  fellowship  with  the  people  of  God  in  Bed- 
ford. After  I  had  propounded  to  the  Church  that  my  desire  was  to 
walk  in  the  order  and  ordinances  of  Christ  with  them,  and  was  also 
admitted  by  them  ;  while  I  thought  of  that  blessed  ordinance  of  Christ 
vvhich  was  his  last  supper  with  his  disciples  before  his  death,  that 
Scripture,  "Do  this  in  remembrance  of  me"  (Luke  22  :  19),  was 
made  a  very  precious  word  unto  me  ;  for  by  it  the  Lord  did  come 
down  upon  my  conscience  with  the  discovery  of  his  death  for  my 
sins,  and,  as  I  then  felt,  did  as  if  he  plunged  me  in  the  virtue  of  the 
same. 

But  behold,  I  had  not  been  long  a  partaker  of  that  ordinance,  but 
such  fierce  and  sad  temptation  did  attend  me  at  all  times  therein, 
both  to  blaspheme  the  ordinance  and  to  wish  some  deadly  thing  to 
those  that  then  did  eat  thereof,  that,  lest  I  should  at  any  time  be 
guilty  of  consenting  to  these  wicked  and  fearful  thoughts,  I  was 
forced  to  bend  myself  all  the  while  to  pray  to  God  to  keep  me  from 
such  blasphemies ;  and  also  to  cry  to  God  to  bless  the  cup  and  bread 
to  them,  as  it  were,  from  mouth  to  mouth.  The  reason  of  this  temp- 
tation, I  have  thought  since,  was  because  I  did  not,  with  that  rever- 
ence that  became  me,  at  first  approach  to  partake  thereof.  Thus  I 
continued  for  three-quarters  of  a  year,  and  could  never  have  rest  nor 
ease ;  but  at  the  last  the  Lord  came  in  upon  my  soul  with  that  same 
Scripture  by  which  my  soul  was  visited  before  ;  and  after  that  I  have 
been  unusually  very  well  and  comfortable  in  the  partaking  of  that 
blessed  ordinance,  and  have,  I  trust,  therein  discerned  the  Lord's 
body  as  broken  for  my  sins,  and  that  his  precious  blood  hath  been 
shed  for  my  transgressions. 

Upon  a  time  I  was  something  inclining  to  a  consumption,  where- 


516  Life  of  B  tiny  an. 

with  about  the  spring  I  was  suddenly  and  violently  seized  with  much 
weakness  in  my  outward  man,  insomuch  that  I  thought  I  could  not 
live.  Now  began  I  afresh  to  give  myself  up  to  a  serious  examina- 
tion after  my  state  and  condition  for  the  future,  and  of  my  evidences 
for  that  blessed  world  to  come  ;  for  it  hath,  I  bless  the  name  of  God, 
been  my  usual  course,  as  always  so  especially  in  the  day  of  affliction, 
to  endeavor  to  keep  my  interests  in  the  life  to  come  clear  before 
mine  eyes. 

But  I  had  no  sooner  began  to  call  to  mind  my  former  experience 
of  the  goodness  of  God  to  my  soul,  but  there  came  flocking  into  my 
mind  an  innumerable  company  of  my  sins  and  transgressions  ;  among 
which  these  were,  at  this  time,  most  to  my  affliction,  namely,  my 
deadness,  dulness,  and  coldness  in  my  holy  duties  ;  my  w^anderings 
of  heart,  of  my  wearisomeness  in  all  good  things,  my  want  of  love  to 
God,  his  ways  and  people,  with  this  at  the  end  of  all,  Are  these  the 
fruits  of  Christianity?  Are  these  tokens  of  a  blessed  man?  At 
the  apprehensions  of  these  things  my  sickness  was  doubled  upon 
me,  for  now  I  was  sick  in  my  inward  man,  my  soul  was  clogged  with 
guilt;  now  also  was  my  former  experience  of  God's  goodness  to  me 
quite  taken  out  of  my  mind,  and  hid,  as  if  they  had  never  been  or 
seen  ;  now  was  my  soul  greatly  pitched  between  these  two  considera- 
tions. Live  I  must  not ;    Die  I  dare  not. 

Now  I  sunk  and  fell  in  my  spirit  and  was  giving  all  up  for  lost ; 
but  as  I  was  walking  up  and  down  the  house,  as  a  man  in  a  most 
woful  state,  that  word  of  God  took  hold  of  my  heart:  "Ye  are  justi- 
fied freely  by  his  grace,  through  the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  "  (Rom.  3  :  24).  But  oh  !  what  a  turn  it  made  upon  me.  Now 
was  I  as  one  awakened  out  of  some  troublesome  sleep  and  dream ; 
and  listening  to  this  heavenly  sentence,  I  was  as  if  I  had  heard  it  thus 
spoken  to  me:  "Sinner,  thou  thinkest  that  because  of  thy  sins  and 
infirmities  I  cannot  save  thy  soul  ;  but  behold,  my  Son  is  by  me, 
and  upon  him  I  look,  and  not  on  thee,  and  shall  deal  with  thee  ac- 
cording as  I  am  pleased  with  him."  At  this  I  was  greatly  enlightened 
in  my  mind,  and  made  to  understand  that  God  could  justify  a  sinner 
at  anydme;  it  was  but  his  looking  upon  Christ  and  imputing  of  his 
benefits  to  us,  and  the  work  was  forthwith  done.  And  as  I  was  thus 
in  a  muse,  that  Scripture  came  with  great  power  upon  my  spirit:  "  Not 
by  works  of  righteousness  that  we  have  done,  but  according  to  his 
mercy  he  hath  saved  us,"  etc.  (2  Tim.  1:9;  Tit.  3:  5).  Now  was  I 
got  on  high  ;  I  saw  myself  within  the  arms  of  grace  jnH  mercy  ;  and 


Life  of  Btmyan,  517 

though  I  was  before  afraid  to  think  of  a  dying  hour,  yet  now  I  cried 
Let  me  die.      Now  death  was  lovely  and  beautiful  in  my  sight,  for  1 
saw  that  we  shall  never  live  indeed  till  we  be  gone  to  the  other  world. 
Oh !  methought  this  life  was  but  a  slumber,  in  comparison  with  that 
above. 

At  this  time,  also,  I  saw  more  in  these  words,  "heirs  of  God  " 
;ivom,  8:  17),  than  ever  I  shall  be  able  to  express  while  I  live  in 
.,is  world.  Heirs  of  God!  God  himself  is  the  portion  of  the  saints, 
riiis  I  saw  and  wondered  at,  but  cannot  tell  you  what  I  saw.  Again, 
as  I  was  at  another  time  very  ill  and  weak,  all  that  time,  also,  the 
tempter  did  beset  me  strongly  (fori  find  he  is  much  for  assaulting  the 
soul,  when  it  begins  to  approach  towards  the  grave,  then  is  his  op- 
portunity), laboring  to  hide  from  me  my  former  experience  of  God's 
goodness;  also  setdng  before  me  the  terrors  of  death  and  the  judg- 
ment of  God,  insomuch  that  at  this  time,  through  my  fear  of  mis- 
carrying forever  (should  I  now  die),  I  was  as  one  dead  before  death 
came,  and  was  as  if  I  felt  myself  descending  into  the  pit.  Methought 
I  said,  There  is  no  way,  but  to  hell  I  must ;  but,  behold,  just  as  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  those  fears,  these  words  of  the  angels  carrying  Laza- 
rus into  Abraham's  bosom  darted  in  upon  me,  as  who  should  say, 
So  shall  it  be  with  thee  when  thou  shalt  leave  this  world. 

This  did  sweetly  revive  my  spirits  and  help  me  to  hope  in  God; 
which  when  I  had  with  comfort  mused  on  awhile,  that  word  fell  witt 
great  weight  upon  my  mind  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting!  O  grave, 
where  is  thy  victory!"  (i  Cor.  15  :  55.)  At  this  time  I  became  both 
well  in  body  and  mind  at  once,  for  my  sickness  did  presendy  vanish, 
and  I  walked  comfortably  in  my  work  for  God  again.  At  another 
time,  though  just  before  I  was  pretty  well  and  savory  in  my  spirit, 
yet  suddenly  there  fell  upon  me  a  great  cloud  of  darkness,  which 
did  so  hide  me  from  the  things  of  God  and  Christ,  that  I  was 
as  if  I  had  never  seen  or  known  them  in  my  life.  I  was  also  so  over- 
run in  my  soul  with  a  senseless,  heartless  frame  of  spirit,  that  I 
could  not  feel  my  soul  to  move  and  stir  after  grace  and  life  by  Christ ; 
I  was  as  if  my  loins  were  broken,  or  as  if  my  hands  and  feet  had  been 
tied  or  bound  with  chains.  At  this  time,  also,  I  felt  some  weakness 
to  seize  upon  my  outward  man,  which  made  still  the  other  affliction 
the  more  heavy  and  uncomfortable  to  me. 

After  I  had  been  in  this  condition  some  three  or  four  days,  as  I 
was  sitdngby  the  fire,  I  suddenly  felt  this  word  to  sound  in  my  heart: 
I  must  go  to  Jesus.     At  this  my  former  darkness  and  atheism  fled 


518  Life  of  Bunyan. 

away,  and  the  blessed  things  of  heaven  were  set  in  my  view.  While 
I  was  on  this  sudden  thus  overtaken  with  surprise,  Wife,  said  I,  is 
there  ever  such  a  Scripture,  I  must  go  to  Jesus?  She  said  she  could 
not  ttll ;  therefore  I  stood  musing  still  to  see  if  I  could  remember 
such  a  place.  I  had  not  sat  above  two  or  three  minutes,  but  that 
came  bolting  in  upon  me.  And  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels  ; 
and  withal,  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Hebrews,  about  the  Mount  Zion, 
was  set  before  mine  eyes  (Heb.  12  :  22-24).  Then  with  joy  I  told 
my  wife.  Oh  !  now  I  know,  I  know  !  But  that  night  was  a  good 
nieht  to  me.  I  never  had  but  few  better.  I  loncred  for  the  com- 
pany  of  some  of  God's  people,  that  I  might  have  imparted  unto 
them  what  God  had  showed  me.  Christ  was  a  precious  Christ  to 
my  soul  that  night;  I  could  scarcely  lie  in  my  bed  for  joy  and  peace 
and  triumph  through  Christ. 

This  great  glory  did  not  continue  upon  me  until  morning,  yet 
the  twelfth  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (Heb.  12:  22-23) 
was  a  blessed  Scripture  to  me  for  many  days  together  after  this. 
The  words  are  these:  "Ye  are  come  to  Mount  Zion,  to  the  city  of 
the  living  God,  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable 
company  of  angels  ;  to  the  general  assembly  and  Church  of  the  first- 
born, which  are  written  in  heaven ;  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to 
the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect;  and  to  Jesus,  the  mediator  of 
tlie  New  Testament,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh 
better  things  than  that  of  Abel."  Througrh  this  sentence  the  Lord 
h  d  me  over  and  over,  first  to  this  word  and  then  to  that,  and  showed 
me  wonderful  glory  in  every  one  of  them.  These  words,  also,  have 
oft  since  that  time  been  great  refreshment  to  my  spirit.  Blessed  be 
God  for  having  mercy  on  me  1 


CHAPTER  X. 


ND  now  I  am  speaking  of  my  experience,  I  will  in  this 
place  thrust  in  a  word  or  two  concerning  my  preaching 
the  Word,  and  of  God's  dealing  with  me  in  that  partlcu 
lar  also.  After  I  had  been  about  five  or  six  years  awak- 
ened, and  helped  myself  to  see  both  the  want  and  worth 
of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  and  also  enabled  to  venture  my  soul  upon 
him,  some  of  the  most  able  among  the  saints  with  us,  I  say,  the  most 
able  for  judgment  and  holiness  of  life,  as  they  conceived,  did  per- 
ceive that  God  had  counted  me  worthy  to  understand  something  of 
his  will  in  his  holy  and  blessed  Word,  and  had  given  me  utterance,  in 
some  measure,  to  express  what  I  saw  to  others,  for  edification ; 
therefore  they  desired  me,  and  that  with  much  earnestness,  that  I 
would  be  willing,  at  sometimes,  to  take  in  hand,  in  one  of  the  meet- 
ings, to  speak  a  word  of  exhortation  unto  them.  The  which,  though 
at  the  first  it  did  much  dash  and  abash  my  spirit,  yet,  being  still  by 
them  desired  and  entreated,  I  consented  to  their  requests,  and  did 
twice  at  two  several  assemblies  (but  in  private),  though  with  much 
weakness  and  infirmity,  discover  my  gifts  among  them ;  at  which 
they  not  only  seemed  to  be,  but  did  frequently  protest,  as  in  the 
sight  of  the  great  God,  they  were  both  affected  and  comforted,  and 
gave  thanks  to  the  Father  of  mercies  for  the  grace  bestowed  on  me. 
After  this,  sometimes,  when  some  of  them  did  go  into  the 
country  to  teach,  they  would  also  that  I  would  go  with  them  ;  where, 
though  as  yet  I  did  not,  and  durst  not,  make  use  of  my  gifts  in  an 
open  way,  yet  more  privately  still,  as  I  came  among  the  good  people 
in  those  places,  I  did  sometimes  speak  a  word  of  admonition  to  them 
also ;  the  which  they,  as  the  other,  received  with  rejoicing  at  the 
mercy  of  God,  to  me-ward,  professing  their  souls  were  edified  thereby. 
Wherefore,  to  be  brief,  at  last,  being  still  desired  by  the  Church, 
after  some  solemn  prayer  to  the  Lord,  with  fasting,  I  was  more  par- 
ticularly called  forth  and  appointed  to  a  more  ordinary  and  public 
preaching  of  the  Word,  not  only  to  and  among  them  that  believed, 
but  also  to  offer  the  Gospel  to  those  who  had  not  yet  received  the 
faith  thereof;  about  which  time  I  did  evidently  find  in  my  mind  a 
secret  pricking  forward  thereto  ;  though  I  bless  God,  not  for  a  desire 

(519) 


520 


Life  of  Bzmyan,  521 

of  vain-glory,  for  at  that  time  I  was  most  sorely  afflicted  with  the  fiery 
darts  of  the  devil  concerning  my  eternal  state.  But  yet  I  could  not 
be  content  unless  I  was  found  in  the  exercise  of  my  gift,  unto  which 
also  I  was  greatly  animated,  not  only  by  the  continual  desires  of  the 
godly,  but  also  by  that  saying  of  Paul  to  the  Corinthians  :  "  I  beseech 
you,  brethren  (ye  know  the  household  of  Stephanas,  that  it  is  the 
first  fruit  of  Achaia,  and  that  they  have  addicted  themselves  to  the 
ministry  of  the  saints),  that  ye  submit  yourselves  unto  such,  and  to 
every  one  that  helpeth  with  us,  and  laboreth  "  (  i  Cor.  i6  :  15,  1 6). 
By  this  text  I  was  made  to  see  that  the  Holy  Ghost  never  intended 
that  men  who  have  gifts  and  abilties  should  bury  them  in  the 
earth ;  but  rather  did  command  and  stir  up  such  to  the  exercise  of 
their  gift,  and  also  did  commend  those  that  are  apt  and  ready  so  to 
do.  "  They  have  addicted  themselves  to  the  ministry  of  the  saints.  " 
This  Scripture,  in  these  days,  did  continually  run  in  my  mind,  to  en- 
courage me  and  strengthen  me  in  this  my  work  for  God.  I  had  also 
been  encouraged  from  several  other  Scriptures  and  examples  of  the 
godly,  both  specified  in  the  Word  and  other  ancient  histories :  Acts 
8  :  4,  and  18  :  24,  24;  i  Pet.  4:  10  ;  Rom.  12  :  6  ;  and  Fox's  Acts 
and  Monuments. 

Wherefore,  though  of  myself  of  all  the  saints  the  most  unwor- 
thy, yet  I,  but  with  great  fear  and  trembling  at  the  sight  of  my  own 
weakness,  did  set  upon  the  work,  and  did,  according  to  my  gifts,  and 
the  proportion  of  my  faith,  preach  that  blessed  Gospel  that  God  has 
showed  me  in  the  holy  Word  of  truth;  which,  when  the  country  under- 
stood, they  came  in  to  hear  the  Word  by  hundreds,  and  that  from  all 
parts,  though  upon  divers  and  sundry  accounts.  And  I  thank  God, 
he  gave  unto  me  some  measure  of  bowels  and  pity  for  the  souls, 
which  also  did  put  me  foward  to  labor  with  great  diligence  and 
earnestness,  to  find  out  such  a  word  as  might,  if  God  would  bless  it, 
lay  hold  of,  and  awaken  the  conscience,  in  which  also  the  good  Lord 
had  respect  to  the  desire  of  his  servant ;  fori  had  not  preached  long, 
before  some  began  to  be  touched  and  be  greatly  affected  in  their 
minds  at  the  apprehension  of  the  greatness  of  their  sin  and  of  their 
need  of  Jesus  Christ. 

I  first  could  not  believe  that  God  should  speak  by  me  to  the 
heart  of  any  man,  still  counting  myself  unworthy  ;  yet  ihose  who 
were  thus  touched  would  love  me  and  have  a  particular  respect  for 
me  ;  and  though  I  did  put  it  from  me,  that  they  should  be  awakened 
by  me,  still  they  would  confess  it  and  affirm   it  before  the  saints  of 


Life  of  Bunyan,  523 

God ;  they  would  also  bless  God  for  me  (unworthy  wretch  that  I  am  !), 
and  count  me  God's  instrument  that  showed  to  them  the  way  of  sal- 
vation. Wherefore,  seeing  them  in  both  their  words  and  deeds  to  be  so 
constant,  and  also,  in  their  hearts,  so  earnestly  pressing  after  the 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  rejoicing  that  ever  God  did  send  me 
where  they  were,  then  I  began  to  conclude  it  might  be  s),  that  God 
had  owned  in  his  work  such  a  foolish  one  as  I ;  and  then  came  the 
word  of  God  to  my  heart,  with  much  sweet  refreshment:  "The  bless- 
ing of  them  that  are  ready  to  perish  is  come  upon  me  ;  yea,  I  caused 
the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy  "  (Job  29:  13).  At  this  therefore 
I  rejoiced  ;  yea,  the  tears  of  those  whom  God  did  awaken  by  my 
preaching  would  be  both  solace  and  encouragement  to  me;  I  thought 
on  these  sayings  :  "Who  is  he  that  maketh  me  glad,  but  the  same  that 
is  made  sorry  by  me?"  (2  Cor.  2:  2.)  And  again:  "  Though  I  be  not 
an  apostle  to  others,  yet  doubtless  lam  unto  you  ;  for  the  seal  of  my 
apostleship  are  ye  in  the  Lord"  (i  Cor,  6  :  2).  These  things,  there- 
fore, were  as  another  argument  unto  me,  that  God  had  called  me  to, 
and  stood  by  me  in  this  work. 

In  my  preaching  of  the  Word,  I  took  special  notice  of  this  one 
thing,  namely,  that  the  Lord  did  lead  me  to  begin  where  his  word 
begins  with  sinners  ;  that  is,  to  condemn  all  flesh ;  and  to  open  and 
allege,  that  the  curse  of  God  by  the  law  doth  belong  to  and  lay 
hold  on  all  men  as  they  come  into  the  world,  because  of  sin.  Now 
this  part  of  my  work  I  fulfilled  with  great  seriousness  ;  for  the  ter- 
rors of  the  law,  and  guilt  for  my  transgressions,  lay  heavy  on  my 
conscience.  I  preached  what  I  felt,  what  I  smartingly  did  feel ;  even 
that  under  which  my  poor  soul  did  groan  and  tremble  to  as- 
tonishment. Indeed,  I  have  been  as  one  sent  to  them  from  the 
dead.  I  went  myself  in  chains,  to  preach  to  them  in  chains  ;  and 
carried  that  fire  in  my  own  conscience  that  I  persuaded  them  to  be 
aware  of.  I  can  truly  say,  and  that  without  dissembling,  that,  when 
I  have  been  to  preach,  I  have  gone  full  of  guilt  and  terror,  even  to 
the  pulpit-door,  and  there  it  hath  been  taken  off,  and  I  have  been  at 
liberty  in  my  mind  until  I  have  done  my  work  ;  and  then  immedi- 
ately, even  before  I  could  get  down  the  pulpit  stairs,  I  have  been  as 
bad  as  I  was  before  ;  yet  God  carried  me  on,  but  surely  with  a 
strong  hand,  for  neither  guilt  nor  hell  could  take  me  off  my  work. 

Thus  I  went  on  for  the  space  of  two  years,  crying  out  against 
men's  sins  and  their  fearful  state  because  of  them.  After  which 
the  Lord  came  in  upon  my  soul  with  some  sure  Dea<"e  and  comfort 


524 


Life  of  Bunyan. 


through  Christ  ;  for  he  did  give  me  many  sweet  discoveries  of  his 
blessed  grace  through  him.  WhcM'efore,  now  I  altered  in  my  preach- 
ing (for  still  I  preached  what  I  saw  and  felt);  now  tlierefore  1  did 
much  lal^or  to  hold  with  Jesus  Christ  in  all  his  offices,  relations, 
and  benefits  unto  the  world,  and  did  strive  also  to  discover,  to  con- 
demn, and   remove  those  false  supports  and  props  on  which  the 


BUNYAN  IN  PRISON. 

world  doth  both  lean,  and  by  them  fall  and  perish.     On  these  things 
also  I  stayed  as  long  as  on  the  other. 

After  this,  God  led  me  into  something  of  the  mystery  of  the 
union  of  Christ ;  wherefore,  that  I  discovered  and  showed  to  them 
also.  And  when  I  had  travelled  through  these  their  chief  points  of 
the  Word  of  God,  about  the  space  of  five  years  or  more,  I  was 
caught  in  my  present  practice  and  cast  into  prison,  where  I  have  lain 


Life  of  Bunyan.  525 

above  as  long  again  to  confirm  the  truth  by  way  ot  suffering,  as  I 
was  before  in  testifying  of  it  according  to  the  Scriptures  in  a  way  of 
preaching.  When  I  have  been  preaching,  I  thank  God,  my  heart 
hath  often  all  the  time  of  this  and  the  other  exercise,  with  great 
earnestness  cried  to  God  that  he  would  make  the  work  effectual  to 
the  salvation  of  the  soul ;  still  being  grieved  lest  the  enemy  should 
take  the  Word  away  from  the  conscience,  and  so  it  should  become 
unfruitful.  Wherefore  I  shall  labor  to  speak  the  Word,  as  that, 
thereby,  if  it  were  possible,  the  sin  and  person  guilty  might  be  par- 
ticularized by  it. 

Also,  when  I  have  done  the  exercise,  it  hath  gone  to  my  heart 
to  think  the  Word  should  now  fall  as  rain  on  stony  places  ;  still  wish- 
ing from  my  heart.  Oh  !  that  they  who  have  heard  me  speak  this  day 
did  but  see  as  I  do  what  sin,  death,  hell  and  the  curse  of  God  are ; 
and  also  what  the  grace  and  love  and  mercy  of  God  are,  through 
Christ,  to  men  in  such  a  case  as  they  are,  who  are  yet  estranged  from 
him.  And,  indeed,  I  did  often  say  in  my  heart  before  the  Lord,  That 
if  I  be  hanged  up  presently  before  their  eyes,  and  it  would  be  a 
means  to  awaken  them  and  confirm  them  in  the  truth,  I  gladly  should 
be  contented.  For  I  have  been  in  my  preaching,  especially  when  I 
have  been  engaged  in  the  doctrine  of  life  by  Christ,  without  works, 
as  if  an  angel  of  God  stood  by  at  my  back,  to  encourage  me.  Oh! 
it  hath  been  with  such  power  and  heavenly  evidence  upon  my  own 
soul,  while  I  have  been  laboring  to  unfold  it,  to  demonstrate  it  and 
to  fasten  it  upon  the  consciences  of  others,  that  I  could  not  be  con- 
tented with  saying,  I  believe,  and  am  sure  ;  methought  I  was  more 
than  sure  (if  it  be  lawful  to  express  myself)  that  those  things  which 
I  then  asserted  were  true. 

When  I  first  went  to  preach  the  Word  abroad,  the  doctors  and 
priests  of  the  country  did  open  wide  against  me,  but  I  was  per- 
suaded of  this,  not  to  render  railing  for  railing,  but  to  see  how 
many  of  their  carnal  professors  I  could  convince  of  their  miserable 
state  by  the  law,  and  of  the  want  and  worth  of  Christ;  for,  thought 
I,  that  shall  answer  for  me  in  time  to  come,  when  they  shall  be  for 
my  hire  before  their  face  (Gen.  30:  n).  I  never  cared  to  meddle 
with  things  that  were  controverted  and  in  dispute  among  the  saints, 
especially  things  of  the  lowest  nature ;  yet  it  pleased  me  much  to 
contend  with  great  earnestness  for  the  word  of  faith  and  remission 
of  sins  by  the  death  and  sufferings  of  Jesus  ;  but  I  say,  as  to  otlier 
things,  I  would  let  them  alone,  because  I  saw  they  engendered  strife ; 


526  Life  of  Btmyan. 

and  because  that  they  neither  in  doing,  nor  in  leaving  undone,  did 
commend  us  to  God  to  be  his.  Besides,  I  saw  my  work  before  me 
did  run  into  another  channel,  even  to  carry  an  awakening  word  ;  to 
that,  therefore,  I  did  stick  and  adhere.  I  never  endeavored  to  nor 
durst  make  use  of  other  men's  lines  (Rom.  15:  18),  though  I  con- 
demn not  all  that  do,  for  I  verily  thought,  and  found  by  experience, 
that  what  was  taught  me  by  the  Word  and  Spirit  of  Christ  could  be 
spoken,  maintained,  and  stood  to,  by  the  soundest  and  best  estab- 
lished conscience ;  and  though  I  will  not  now  speak  all  that  I  know 
in  this  matter,  yet  my  experience  hath  more  interest  in  that  text  of 
Scripture,  Gal.  i  :   11,12,  than  many  among  men  are  aware. 

If  any  of  those  who  were  awakened  by  my  ministry  did  after 
that  fall  back  (as  sometimes  too  many  did),  I  can  truly  say,  their  loss 
hath  been  more  to  me  than  if  my  own  children,  begotten  of  my  own 
body,  had  been  going  to  their  grave.  I  think  verily  I  may  speak  it 
without  offence  to  the  Lord,  nothing  has  gone  so  near  me  as  that, 
unless  it  was  the  fear  of  the  loss  of  the  salvation  of  my  soul.  I  have 
counted  as  if  I  had  goodly  buildings  and  lordships  in  those  places 
where  my  children  were  born.  My  heart  hath  been  so  wrapped  up 
in  the  glory  of  this  excellent  work,  that  I  counted  myself  more  blessed 
and  honored  of  God  by  this  than  if  he  had  made  me  the  emperor  of 
the  Christian  world,  or  the  lord  of  all  the  glory  of  the  earth  without 
it !  Oh  !  these  words  :  "  He  that  converteth  a  sinner  from  the  error 
of  his  ways,  doth  save  a  soul  from  death"  (James  5  :  20).  "  The  fruit 
of  the  righteous  is  a  tree  of  life ;  and  he  that  winneth  souls  is  wise" 
(Prov.  II  :  30).  "They  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of 
the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars 
forever  and  ever"  (Daniel  12  :  30).  "For  what  is  our  hope,  our  joy, 
or  crown  of  rejoicing?  Are  not  even  ye  in  the  presence  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  at  his  coming?  For  ye  are  our  glory  and  joy"  (i 
Thess.  2  :  19,  20).  These,  I  say,  with  many  others  of  a  like  nature, 
have  been  great  refreshments  to  me. 

I  have  observed,  that  where  I  have  had  a  work  to  do  for  God,  I 
have  had  first,  as  it  were,  the  going  of  God  upon  my  spirits,  to  de- 
sire I  might  preach  there.  I  have  also  observed  that  such  and  such 
souls  in  particular  have  been  strongly  set  upon  my  heart,  and  I  stirred 
up  to  wish  for  their  salvation  ;  and  that  those  very  souls  have  after 
this  been  given  in  the  fruits  of  my  ministry,  I  have  observed  that  a 
word  cast  in,  by-the-by,  hath  done  more  execution  in  a  sermon  than 
all  that  was  spoken  besides.     Sometimes,  also,  when  I  have  thought 


Life  of  Bunyan. 


527 


I  did  no  good,  then  I  did  most  of  all ;  and  at  other  times,  when  I 
thought  1  should  catch  them,  I  have  fished  for  nothing.  I  have  also 
observed,  that  where  there  has  been  work  to  do  upon  sinners,  there 
the  devil  hath  begun  to  roar  in  the  hearts  and  by  the  mouths  of  his 
servants  ;  yea,  oftentimes,  when  the  wicked  world  hath  raged  most, 
there  hath  been  souls  awakened  by  the  Word.  I  could  instance  par- 
ticulars, but  I  forbear. 

My  ereat  de-  

sire  m  my  tulhllmg  ^     ili'Vc/ 

my  ministry  was  to  T  fonj-ci-iiid  j-,-' 

get  into  the  darkest  |,i!;i jrji  j a t;  r 

places  of  the  coun- 
try, even  among 
those  people  that 
were  farthest  off  of 
profession ;  yet  not 
because  I  could  not 
endure  the  light 
(for  I  feared  not  to 
show  my  Gospel  to 
any),  but  because 
I  found  my  spirit 
did  lean  most  after 
awakeningand  con- 
verting work,  and 
the  word  that  I  car- 
ried did  lean  itself 
most  that  way  also  : 
"Yea,  so  have  I 
strived  to  preach 
the  Gospel,  not 
where  Christ  was 
named,  lest  I  should 
build  upon  another 
man's  foundation"  (Rom.  15  :  20).  In  my  preaching  I  have  really 
been  in  pain,  and  have,  as  it  were,  travailed  to  bring  forth  children 
to  God  ;  neither  could  I  be  satisfied  unless  some  fruits  did  appear 
in  my  work.  If  I  were  fruitless,  it  mattered  not  who  commended 
me ;  but  if  I  were  fruitful,  I  cared  not  who  did  condemn,  I  have 
thought  of  that:  "  Lo !  children  are  an  heritage  of  the  Lord;  and 


BUNYAN'S  FAMILY  VISITING  HIM  IN  PRISON. 


528  Life  of  Bunyan. 

the  fruit  of  the  womb  is  his  reward.  As  arrows  in  the  hand  of  a 
mighty  man,  so  are  children  of  the  youth.  Happy  is  the  man  tliat 
hath  his  quiver  full  of  them  ;  they  shall  not  be  ashamed,  but  they  shall 
speak  with  the  enemies  at  the  gate"  (Psalm  127  :  3-5).  It  pleased 
me  nothing  to  see  people  drink  in  opinions,  if  they  seemed  igno- 
rant of  Jesus  Christ  and  the  worth  of  their  own  salvation;  but  when 
I  saw  others  who  were  found  convicted  for  sin,  especially  unbelief, 
and  with  a  heart  set  on  fire  to  be  saved  by  Christ,  with  strong 
breathings  after  a  truly  sanctified  soul,  that  it  was  that  delighted 
me ;  those  were  the  souls  I  counted  blessed. 

But  in  this  work,  as  in  all  others,  I  had  my  temptations  attending 
me,  and  that  of  divers  kinds  ;  as  sometimes  I  should  be  assaulted 
with  great  discouragement  therein,  fearing  that  I  should  not  be  able 
to  speak  a  word  at  all  to  edification  ;  nay,  that  I  should  not  be  able  to 
speak  sense  to  the  people ;  at  which  times  I  should  have  such  a 
strange  faintness  and  strengthlessness  seize  upon  my  body,  that  my 
legs  have  scarce  been  able  to  carry  me  to  the  place  of  exercise. 

Sometimes,  again,  when  I  have  been  preaching,  I  have  been 
violently  assaulted  with  thoughts  of  blasphemy,  and  strongly  tempted 
to  speak  the  words  with  my  mouth  before  the  congregation.  I  have 
also,  at  times,  even  when  I  have  begun  to  speak  the  word  with 
much  clearness,  evidence  and  liberty  of  speech,  yet  been,  before 
the  ending  of  that  opportunity,  so  blinded  and  so  estranged  from 
the  things  I  have  been  speaking,  and  have  been  also  so  straitened 
in  my  speech  as  to  utterance  before  the  people,  that  I  have  been  as 
if  I  had  not  known  or  remembered  what  I  have  been  about ;  or  as 
if  my  head  had  been  in  a  bag  all  the  time  of  my  exercise.  Again, 
when  as  sometimes  I  have  been  about  to  preach  upon  some  smart 
and  searching  portion  of  the  Word,  I  have  found  the  tempter  sug- 
gest, What!  will  you  preach  this?  This  condemns  yourself;  of  this 
your  own  soul  is  guilty  ;  wherefore,  preach  not  of  this  at  all !  or  if 
you  do,  yet  so  mince  it  as  to  make  way  for  your  own  escape;  lest, 
instead  of  awakening  others,  you  lay  that  guilt  upon  your  own  soul 
that  you  will  never  get  from  under. 

But  I  thank  the  Lord,  I  have  been  kept  from  consenting  to 
these  so  horrid  suggestions,  and  have  rather,  as  Samson,  bowed  my- 
self with  all  my  might,  to  condemn  sin  and  transgression  wherever 
I  found  it ;  yea,  though  therein  also  I  did  bring  guilt  upon  my  own 
conscience.  Let  me  die,  thought  I,  with  the  Philistines  (Judges  16: 
29,  30),  rather  than  deal  corruptly  with  the  blessed  Word  of  God. 


JJ/&  ilf  Bunyan,  529 

"Thou  that  teachest  av^^thfir,  teachest  not  thou  thyself?  "  It  is  far 
better  then  to  judge  thyself,  even  by  preaching  plainly  unto  others, 
than  thou,  to  save  thyself,  iittprison  the  truth  in  unrighteousness. 
Blessed  be  God  for  his  help  also  in  this !  I  have,  also,  while  found  in 
this  blessed  work  of  Christ,  been  often  tempted  to  pride  and  liftings 
up  of  heart ;  and,  though  I  dare  not  say  I  have  been  affected  with 
this,  yet  truly  the  Lord,  of  his  precious  mercy,  hath  so  carried  it 
towards  me,  tha.t,  for  the  most  part,  I  have  had  but  small  joy  to  give 
way  to  such  a  thing.  For  it  hath  been  my  every  day's  portion  to  be 
let  into  the  evil  of  my  own  heart,  and  still  made  to  see  such  a  multi- 
tude of  corruptions  and  infirmities  therein,  that  it  hath  caused  hang- 
ing down  of  the  head  under  all  my  gifts  and  attainments  ;  I  have  felt 
this  thorn  in  the  flesh  (2  Cor.  12  :  8,9)  the  very  mercy  of  God  tome. 

I  have  also  had,  together  with  this,  some  notable  place  or  other 
of  the  word  presented  before  me,  which  word  hath  contained  in  it 
some  sharp  and  precious  sentence  concerning  the  perishing  of  the 
soul,  notwithstanding  gifts  and  parts.  As  for  instance,  that  hath 
been  of  great  use  to  me  :  "  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men 
and  of  angels,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  become  as  sounding  brass 
or  a  tinkling  cymbal"  (i  Cor.  13:  i,  2).  A  tinkling  cymbal  is  an 
instrument  of  music,  with  which  a  skilful  player  can  make  such  me- 
lodious and  heart-inflaming  music,  and  that  all  who  hear  him  play  can 
scarcely  hold  from  dancing;  and  yet,  behold,  the  cymbal  hath  not 
life,  neither  comes  the  music  from  it,  but  because  of  the  art  of  him 
that  plays  therewith ;  so,  then,  the  instrument  at  last  may  come  to 
naught  and  perish,  though  in  times  past  such  music  hath  been  made 
upon  it.  Just  thus  I  saw  it  was,  and  will  be,  with  them  that  hath  gifts, 
but  want  saving  grace.  They  are  in  the  hand  of  Christ,  as  the  cymbal 
in  the  hand  of  David ;  and  as  David  could,  with  the  cymbal,  make 
that  mirth  in  the  service  of  God  as  to  elevate  the  hearts  of  the  wor- 
shippers, so  Christ  can  use  these  gifted  men,  as  with  them  to  affect 
the  souls  of  his  people  in  his  Church  ;  yet  when  he  hath  done  all, 
hang  them  by  as  lifeless,  though  sounding  cymbals. 

This  consideration,  therefore,  together  with  some  others,  was 
for  the  most  part  as  a  maul  on  the  head  of  pride  and  desire  of  vain- 
glory. What!  thought  I,  shall  I  be  proud  because  I  am  as  sounding 
brass?  Is  it  so  much  to  be  a  fiddle?  Hath  not  the  least  creature 
that  hath  life  more  of  God  in  it  than  these?  Besides,  I  knew  it  wae 
love  that  should  never  die  ;  but  these  must  cease  and  vanish  ;  so  1 
concluded  a  little  grace,  a  little  love,  a  little  of  the  true  fear  of  God, 

34 


630  Life  of  Bunyan. 

IS  better  than  all  the  gifts ;  yea,  and  I  am  fully  convinced  of  it,  that 
it  is  possible  for  souls  that  can  scarce  give  a  man  an  answer,  but  with 
great  confusion  as  to  method ;  I  say,  it  is  possible  for  them  to  have 
a  thousand  times  more  grace,  and  so  to  be  more  in  the  love  and 
favor  of  the  Lord  than  some  who,  by  the  virtue  of  the  gift  of  knowl- 
edge, can  deliver  themselves  like  angels. 

Thus,  therefore,  I  came  to  perceive  that  though  gifts  in  them- 
selves were  good,  to  the  thing  for  which  they  w^ere  designed,  to  wit, 
the  edification  of  others,  yet  empty  and  without  power  to  save  the 
soul  of  him  that  hath  them,  if  they  be  alone  ;  neither  are  they,  as  so, 
any  sign  of  man's  state  to  be  happy,  being  only  a  dispensation  of 
God  to  some,  of  whose  improvement,  or  non-improvement,  they 
must,  when  a  little  more  time  is  over,  give  an  account  to  Him  that 
is  ready  to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead.  This  showed  me,  too, 
that  gifts  being  alone,  were  dangerous ;  not  in  themselves,  but  be- 
cause of  those  evils  that  attend  them  that  have  them  ;  to  wit,  pride, 
desire  of  vain-glory,  self-conceit,  etc.,  all  which  were  easily  blown 
up  at  the  applause  and  commendation  of  every  unadvised  Christian, 
to  the  endangering  of  a  poor  creature  to  fall  into  the  condemnation 
of  the  devil.  I  saw,  therefore,  that  he  that  hath  gifts  had  need  to  be 
let  into  a  sight  of  the  nature  of  them  ;  to  wit,  that  they  come  short 
of  making  of  him  to  be  in  a  truly  saved  condition,  lest  he  rest  in 
them,  and  so  fall  short  of  the  grace  of  God.  He  hath  cause  to  walk 
humbly  with  God,  and  be  little  in  his  own  eyes,  and  to  remember 
withal,  that  his  gifts  are  not  his  own,  but  the  Church's;  and  that  by 
them  he  is  made  a  servant  to  the  Church,  and  he  must  give  at  last 
an  account  of  his  stewardship  unto  the  Lord  Jesus ;  and  to  give  a 
good  account  will  be  a  blessed  thing.  Let  all  men,  therefore,  prize 
a  little  with  the  fear  of  the  Lord  (gifts,  indeed,  are  desirable),  but 
yet  great  grace  and  small  gifts  are  better  than  great  gifts  and  no 
grace.  It  doth  not  say,  the  Lord  gives  gifts  and  glory,  but  the 
Lord  gives  grace  and  glory ;  and  blessed  is  such  an  one  to 
whom  the  Lord  gives  grace,  for  that  is  a  certain  forerunner 
of  glory. 

But  when  Satan  perceived  that  his  thus  tempting  and  assaulting 
of  me  would  not  answer  his  design,  to  wit,  to  overthrow  the  minis- 
try and  make  it  ineffectual  as  to  the  ends  thereof,  then  he  tried 
another  way,  which  was  to  stir  up  the  minds  of  the  ignorant  and 
malicious  to  load  me  with  slanders  and  reproaches.  Now,  therefore, 
1  say,  that  what  the  devil  could  advise,  and  his  instruments  invent, 


Life  of  Bunyan.  531 

was  whirled  up  and  down  the  country  against  me,  thinking,  as  I 
said,  that  by  that  means  they  should  make  my  ministry  to  be  aban- 
doned.  It  began,  therefore,  to  be  rumored  up  and  down  among  the 
people,  that  I  was  a  witch,  a  Jesuit,  a  highwayman  and  the  like.  To 
all  which  I  shall  only  say,  God  knows  that  I  am  innocent.  But,  as 
for  mine  accusers,  let  them  provide  themselves  to  meet  me  before 
the  tribunal  of  the  Son  of  God,  there  to  answer  for  all  these  things 
(with  all  the  rest  of  their  iniquities),  unless  God  give  them  repent- 
ance for  them,  for  the  which  I  pray  with  all  my  heart. 

But  that  which  was  reported  with  the  boldest  confidence,  was, 
that  I  WIS  addicted  to  orross  immoralities  and  the  like.  Now  these 
slanders  (with  others)  I  glory  in;  because  but  slanders,  foolish  or 
knavish  lies,  and  falsehoods  cast  upon  me  by  the  devil  and  his  seed  ; 
and  should  I  not  be  dealt  with  thus  wickedly  by  the  world,  I  should 
want  one  sign  of  a  saint  and  a  child  of  God.  "  Blessed  are  you 
(saith  the  Lord  Jesus)  when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you, 
and  shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  of  you  falsely  for  my  sake;  rejoice 
and  be  exceeding  glad,  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven,  for  so 
persecuted  they  the  prophets,  which  were  before  you"  (Matt  5:11, 
12).  These  things,  therefore,  upon  mine  ow^n  account,  trouble  me 
not.  No,  though  they  were  twenty  times  more  than  they  are  I 
have  a  good  conscience  ;  and  whereas  they  speak  evil  of  me,  as  an 
evil-doer,  they  shall  be  ashamed  that  falsely  accuse  my  good  conver- 
sation in  Christ.  So  then,  what  shall  I  say  to  those  who  have  thus 
bespattered  me?  Shall  I  threaten  them?  Shall  I  chide  them?  Shall 
I  flatter  them  ?  Shall  I  entreat  them  to  hold  their  tongues?  No,  not 
I.  Were  it  not  for  that  these  things  make  them  ripe  for  damnation, 
that  are  the  authors  and  abettors,  I  would  say  unto  them.  Report  it; 
because  it  wall  increase  my  glory. 

Therefore,  I  bind  these  lies  and  slanders  to  me  as  an  orna- 
ment ;  it  belongs  to  my  Christian  profession  to  be  vilified,  slandered, 
reproached  and  reviled  ;  and  since  all  this  is  nothing  else,  as  my  God 
and  my  conscience  do  bear  me  witness,  I  rejoice  in  reproaches  for 
Christ's  sake.  I  also  call  all  these  fools  and  knaves  that  have  thus 
made  it  anything  of  their  business  to  affirm  any  of  these  things 
aforenamed  of  me;  namely,  that  I  have  been  of  unchaste  life  or  the 
like.  When  they  have  used  the  utmost  of  their  endeavors,  and 
made  the  fullest  inquiry  that  they  can,  to  prove  against  me  truly, 
that  there  is  any  one  in  heaven,  or  earth,  or  hell  that  can  say  I 
have  at  any  time,  in  any  place,  by  day  or  night,  so  much  as  at- 
tempted  any  unbecoming    familiarity ;     and   speak    I  thus   to   beg 


632  Life  of  Bunyan. 

mine  enemies  into  a  good  esteem  of  me  ?  No,  not  I.  I  will  in  this 
beg  belief  of  no  man ;  believe  or  disbelieve  me  in  this,  all  is  a  simi- 
lar case  to  me. 

My  foes  have  missed  their  mark  in  this  their  shooting  at  me. 
I  am  not  the  man,  I  wish  that  they  themselves  be  guiltless.  If  all 
the  fornicators  and  adulterers  in  England  were  hanged  up  by  the 
neck  till  they  be  dead,  John  Bunyan,  the  object  of  their  envy,  would 
be  still  alive  and  well.  I  know  not  whether  there  be  such  a  thing 
as  a  woman  breathing  under  the  copes  of  the  heaven,  but  by  their 
apparel,  their  children,  or  by  common  fame — except  my  wife. 

And  in  this  I  admire  the  wisdom  of  God,  that  he  made  me  in 
this  respect  circumspect,  from  my  first  conversion  until  now.  They 
know,  and  can  also  bear  me  witness,  with  whom  I  have  been  most 
intimately  concerned,  that  it  is  a  rare  thing  to  see  me  to  behave 
familiarly  towards  females ;  the  common  salutation  I  abhor,  it  is 
odious  to  me  in  whomsoever  I  see  it.  Their  company  alone  I  can- 
not approve,  for  I  think  these  things  are  not  so  becoming  me. 
When  I  have  seen  good  men  salute  those  women  that  they  have 
visited,  or  that  have  visited  them,  I  have,  at  times,  made  my  objec- 
tion against  it ;  and  when  they  have  answered  that  it  was  but  a  piece 
of  civility,  I  have  told  them  it  is  not  a  comely  sight ;  some,  indeed, 
have  urged  the  holy  kiss  ;  but  then  I  have  asked  why  they  have 
made  such  exceptions,  why  they  did  salute  the  most  handsome,  and 
let  the  ill-favored  go?  Thus,  how  laudable  soever  such  things  have 
been  in  the  eyes  of  others,  they  have  been  unseemly  in  my  sight. 
And  now  for  a  wind  up  in  this  matter,  I  call  not  only  on  men,  but 
angels  to  prove  me  guilty  of  having  broken  the  marriage  covenant; 
nor  am  I  afraid  to  do  it  a  second  time,  knowing  that  I  cannot  offend 
the  Lord  in  such  a  case,  to  call  God  for  a  record  upon  my  soul,  that 
in  these  things  I  am  innocent.  Not  that  I  have  been  thus  kept  be- 
cause of  any  goodness  in  me  more  than  any  other  ;  but  God  has 
been  merciful  to  me,  and  has  kept  me,  to  whom  I  pray  that  he  will 
keep  me  still,  not  only  from  this,  but  every  evil  way  and  work,  and 
preserve  me  to  his  heavenly  kingdom.     Amen. 

Now,  as  Satan  labored  by  reproaches  and  slanders  to  make 
me  vile  among  my  countrymen,  that,  if  possible,  my  preaching 
might  be  made  of  none  effect,  so  thereby  was  added  hereto  a  long 
and  tedious  imprisonment,  that  thereby  I  might  be  frightened  from 
my  service  for  Christ,  and  the  world  terrified  and  made  afraid  to 
hear  me  preach,  of  which  I  shall  in  the  next  place  give  you  a  briei 
account. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


|AVING  made  profession  of  the  glorious  Gospel  of  Christ 
a  long  time,  and  preached  the  same  about  five  years,  I 
was  apprehended  at  a  meeting  of  good  people  in  the 
country  (among  whom,  had  they  let  me  alone,  I  should 
have  preached  that  day ;  but  they  took  me  away  from 
among  them),  and  had  me  before  a  justice,  who,  after  I  had  offered 
security  for  my  appearing  the  next  sessions,  yet  committed  me,  be- 
cause my  sureties  would  not  consent  to  be  bound  that  I  should 
preach  no  more  to  the  people. 

At  the  sessions  after,  I  was  indicted  for  an  upholder  and  main- 
tainer  of  unlawful  assemblies  and  conventicles,  and  for  not  conforming 
to  the  national  worship  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  after  some  con- 
ferences there  with  the  justices,  they  took  my  plain  dealing  with 
them  for  a  confession,  as  they  termed  it,  of  the  indictment,  because 
I  refused  to  conform.  So  being  delivered  up  to  the  jailer's  hand  I 
was  had  home  to  prison,  and  there  have  laid  now  complete  fof 
twelve  years,  waiting  to  see  what  God  would  suffer  those  men  to  do 
with  me.  In  which  condition  I  have  continued  with  much  content, 
through  grace,  but  have  met  with  many  turnings  and  goings  upon  my 
heart,  both  from  the  Lord,  Satan  and  my  own  corruption ;  by  all 
which  (glory  be  to  Jesus  Christ)  I  have  also  received  among  many 
things,  much  conviction,  instruction  and  understanding,  of  which  at 
large  I  shall  not  here  discourse;  only  give  you  a  hint  or  two,  a  word 
that  may  stir  up  the  godly  to  bless  God  and  to  pray  for  me  ;  and  also 
to  take  encouragement,  should  the  case  be  their  own,  not  to  fear  what 
man  can  do  unto  them.  I  never  had  in  all  my  life  so  great  an  inlet 
into  the  Word  of  God  as  now;  those  Scriptures  that  I  saw  nothing  in 
before,  were  made  in  this  place  and  state  to  shine  upon  me.  Jesus 
Christ  was  also  never  more  real  and  apparent  than  now.  Here  I  have 
seen  and  felt  him,  indeed;  oh  !  that  word:  "We  have  not  preached  unto 
you  cunningly  devised  fables"  (2  Pet.  i  :  16), and  that:  "God  raised 
Christ  up  from  the  dead  and  gave  him  glory,  that  our  faith  and  hope 
might  be  in  God"  (i  Pet.  i  :  21),  were  blessed  words  unto  me  in  this 
imprisoned  condition.  These  three  or  four  Scriptures,  also,  have 
been  great  refreshments  in  this  condition  to  me:  John  14:  1-4;  16: 
33;  Col.  3  :  3,  4;  Heb.  12:  22-24. 

(533) 


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Life  of  Bunyan.  535 

So  that  sometimes,  when  I  have  been  in  favor  of  them,  I  have  been 
able  to  laugh  at  destruction  and  to  fear  neither  the  horse  nor  his 
rider.  I  have  had  sweet  sights  of  the  forgiveness  of  my  sins  in  this 
place,  and  of  my  being  with  Jesus  in  another  world.  Oh !  the  Mount 
Zion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company  of  angels, 
and  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect, 
and  Jesus,  have  been  sweet  unto  me  in  this  place.  I  have  seen  that 
here,  that  I  am  persuaded  I  shall  never,  while  in  this  world,  be  able 
to  express.  I  have  seen  a  truth  in  this  Scripture :  "Whom  having 
not  seen,  ye  love ;  in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believ- 
ing, ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory"  (i  Pet.  i  :  8). 
I  never  knew  what  it  was  for  God  to  stand  by  me  at  all  times,  and 
at  evtry  offer  of  Satan  to  afflict  me,  etc.,  as  I  have  found  him  since 
I  came  in  hither ;  for  look  how  fears  have  presented  themselves,  so 
have  supports  and  encouragements ;  yea,  when  I  have  started,  even 
as  it  were  at  nothing  else  but  my  shadow,  yet  God,  as  being  very 
tender  of  me,  hath  not  suffered  me  to  be  molested,  but  would,  with 
one  Scripture  or  another,  strengthen  me  against  all ;  insomuch  that 
I  have  often  said,  were  it  lawful,  I  could  pray  for  greater  trouble,  for 
the  greater  comfort's  sake  (Eccl.  7  :   14;  2  Cor.  1:5). 

Before  I  came  to  prison  I  saw  what  was  coming,  and  had  especially 
two  considerations  warm  upon  my  heart ;  the  first  was,  how  to  be  able 
to  encounter  death,  should  that  be  here  my  portion.  For  the  first  of 
these,  that  Scripture,  Col.  i  :  11,  was  great  information  to  me,  namely, 
^o  pray  to  God  "to  be  strengthened  with  all  might,  according  to  his 
glorious  power,  unto  all  patience  and  long-suffering  with  joyfulness." 
I  could  seldom  go  to  prayer  before  I  was  imprisoned,  but  for  not  so 
little  as  a  year  together,  this  sentence  or  sweet  petition  would,  as  it 
were,  thrust  itself  into  my  mind  and  persuade  me,  that  if  ever  I 
would  go  through  long-suffering,  I  must  have  patience,  especially  if  I 
would  endure  it  joyfully.  As  to  the  second  consideration,  that  saying 
was  of  great  use  to  me :  "  But  we  had  the  sentence  of  death  in  our- 
selves, that  we  might  not  trust  in  ourselves,  but  in  God  that  raiseth 
the  dead  "  (2  Cor.  1:9).  By  this  Scripture  I  was  made  to  see  that  if 
ever  I  would  suffer  rightly,  I  must  first  pass  a  sentence  of  death  upon 
everything  that  can  be  properly  called  a  thing  of  this  life,  even  to  reckon 
myself,  my  wife,  my  children,  my  health,  my  enjoyment,  and  all,  as 
dead  to  me,  and  myself  as  dead  to  them.  The  second  was  to  live 
upon  God  that  is  invisible,  as  Paul  said  in  another  place  ;  the  way  not 
to  faint  is,  "  to  look  not  on  the  things  that  are  seen,  but  at  the  things 


636  Life  of  Bu7iyan. 

that  are  not  seen  ;  for  the  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the 
things  that  are  not  seen  are  eternal."  And  thus  I  reasoned  with 
myself,  If  I  provide  only  for  a  prison,  then  the  whip  comes  at  unawares, 
and  so  doth  also  the  pillory.  Again,  if  I  only  provide  for  these,  then 
I  am  not  fit  for  banishment ;  further,  if  I  conclude  that  banishment  is 
the  worst,  then  if  death  comes,  I  am  surprised  ;  so  that  I  see  the  best 
way  to  go  through  suiferings  is  to  trust  in  God  through  Christ,  as 
touching  the  world  to  come  ;  and  as  touching  this  world,  "To  count 
the  grave  my  house,  to  make  my  bed  in  darkness  ;  to  say  to  corrup- 
tion, Thou  art  my  father,  and  to  the  worm,  Thou  art  my  mother  and 
sister;"  that  is,  to  familiarize  these  things  to  me. 

But  notwithstanding  these  helps,  I  found  myself  a  man  encom- 
passed with  infirmities  ;  the  parting  with  my  wife  and  poor  children 
hath  often  been  to  me,  in  this  place,  as  the  pulling  the  flesh  from  the 
bones,  and  that  not  only  because  I  am  somewhat  too  fond  of  these 
great  mercies,  but  also  because  I  should  have  often  brought  to  my 
mind  the  many  hardships,  miseries  and  wants  that  my  poor  family  were 
like  to  meet  with,  should  I  be  taken  from  them,  especially  my  poor 
blind  child,  who  lay  nearer  to  my  heart  than  all  beside.  Oh !  the 
thoughts  of  the  hardship  I  thought  my  poor  blind  one  might  go  under, 
would  break  my  heart  to  pieces.  Poor  child  !  thought  I,  what  sorrow 
art  thou  like  to  have  for  thy  portion  in  this  world!  Thou  must  be 
beaten,  must  beg,  suffer  hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  a  thousand 
calamities,  though  I  cannot  now  endure  the  wind  should  blow  upon 
thee.  But  yet,  recalling  myself,  thought  I,  I  must  venture  you  all 
with  God,  though  it  goeth  to  the  quick  to  leave  you  !  Oh  !  I  saw  in 
this  condition  I  was  as  a  man  who  was  pulling  his  house  upon  the 
head  of  his  wife  and  children  ;  yet,  thought  I,  I  must  do  it,  I  must 
do  it.  And  now  I  thousfht  of  those  two  milch  kine  that  were  to 
carry  the  ark  of  God  into  another  country,  and  to  leave  their  calves 
behind  them  (i  Sam.  6:  lo).  But  that  which  helped  me  in  this 
temptation  was  divers  considerations,  of  which,  three  in  special 
here  I  will  name.  The  first  was  the  consideration  of  these  two 
scriptures:  "Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  I  will  preserve  them 
alive;  and  let  thy  widows  trust  in  me  (Jer.  49:  11);  and  again, 
"  The  Lord  said,  Verily  it  shall  go  well  with  thy  remnant ;  verily,  I 
will  cause  the  enemy  to  entreat  thee  well  in  the  time  of  evil,"  etc. 
(Jer.  15:  11).  I  had  also  this  consideration,  that  if  I  should  ven- 
ture all  for  God,  I  engaged  God  to  take  care  of  my  concernments ; 
but  if  I  forsook  him  in  his  ways,  for  fear  of  any  trouble  that  should 


Life  of  Bunyan.  537 

come  to  me  or  mine,  then  I  should  not  only  falsify  my  profession,  but 
should  count  also  that  my  concernments  were  not  so  sure,  if  left  at 
God's  feet,  whilst  I  stood  to  and  for  his  name,  as  they  would  be  if 
they  were  under  my  own  care,  though  with  the  denial  of  the  way  of 
God.     This  was  a  smarting  consideration  and  as  spurs  into  my  flaw. 

That  scripture  also  greatly  helped  it  to  fasten  the  more  on  me, 
where  Christ  prays  against  Judas,  that  God  would  disappoint  him  in 
his  selfish  thoughts  which  moved  him  to  sell  his  Master.  Pray  read 
it  soberly:  Psalm  109:  6-8,  etc.  I  had  also  another  considera- 
tion, and  that  was,  the  dread  of  the  torments  of  hell,  which  I  was 
sure  they  must  partake  of,  that,  for  fear  of  the  cross,  do  shrink  from 
their  profession  of  Christ,  his  words  and  laws,  before  the  sons  of 
men.  I  thought,  also,  of  the  glory  that  he  had  prepared  for  those 
that  in  faith,  and  love,  and  patience,  stood  to  his  ways  before  them. 
These  things,  I  say,  have  helped  me,  when  the  thoughts  of  the 
misery  that  both  myself  and  mine  might,  for  the  sake  of  my  profes- 
sion, be  exposed  to,  have  lain  pinching  on  my  mind.  When  I  have, 
indeed,  conceited  that  I  might  be  banished  for  my  profession,  then 
I  have  thought  of  that  scripture  :  "  They  were  stoned,  they  were 
sawn  asunder,  were  tempted,  were  slain  with  the  sword ;  they 
wandered  about  in  sheep-skins  and  goat-skins,  being  destitute, 
afflicted,  tormented,  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy  "  (Heb.  1 1 : 
37),  for  they  all  thought  they  were  too  bad  to  dwell  and  abide 
among  them.  I  have  also  thought  of  that  saying:  "The  Holy 
Ghost  witnesseth  in  every  city,  that  bonds  and  afflictions  abide  on 
me."  I  have  verily  thought  that  my  soul  and  it  have  sometimes 
reasoned  about  the  sore  and  sad  estate  of  a  banished  and  exiled 
condition,  how  they  were  exposed  to  hunger,  to  cold,  to  perils,  to 
nakedness,  to  enemies,  and  a  thousand  calamities  ;  and  at  last,  it 
may  be,  to  die  in  a  ditch,  like  a  poor  and  desolate  sheep.  But  I 
thank  God,  hitherto  I  have  not  been  moved  by  these  most  delicate 
reasonings,  but  have  rather,  by  them,  more  approved  my  heart  to 
God. 

I  will  tell  you  a  pretty  business.  I  was  once,  above  all  the  rest, 
in  a  very  sad  and  low  condition  for  many  weeks  ;  at  which  time  also, 
being  but  a  young  prisoner,  and  not  acquainted  with  the  laws,  I  had 
this  lying  upon  my  spirits,  that  my  imprisonment  might  end  at  the 
gallows,  for  aught  that  I  could  tell.  Now,  therefore,  Satan  laid  hard 
at  me,  to  beat  me  out  of  heart,  by  suggesting  thus  unto  me  :  But  now 
if,  when  you  come  indeed  to  die,  you  should  be  in  this  condition ; 


538  Life  of  Bunyan. 

that  is,  as  not  to  savor  the  things  of  God,  nor  to  have  an  evidence 
upon  your  soul  for  a  better  state  hereafter?  (For  indeed,  at  this 
time,  all  die  things  of  God  were  hid  from  my  soul.) 

Wherefore,  when  I  at  first  began  to  think  of  this,  it  was  a  great 
trouble  to  me  ;  for  I  thought  with  myself,  that  in  the  condition  1  now 
was  in,  I  was  not  fit  to  die ;  neither  did  I  think  I  could  if  I  should  be 
called  to  it ;  besides,  I  thought  with  myself,  if  1  should  make  a 
scrambling  shift  to  clamber  up  the  ladder,  yet  I  should,  either  w.ith 
quaking  or  other  symptoms  of  fainting,  give  occasion  to  the  enemy 
to  reproach  the  way  of  God,  and  his  people  for  their  timorousness. 
This,  therefore,  lay  with  great  trouble  upon  me,  for  methought  I  was 
ashamed  to  die  with  a  pale  face,  and  tottering  knees,  in  such  a  case 
as  this.  Wherefore,  I  prayed  to  God  that  he  would  comfort  me, 
and  give  me  strength  to  do  and  suffer  what  he  should  call  me  to  ; 
yet  no  comfort  appeared,  but  all  continued  hid.  I  was  also,  at  this 
time,  so  really  possessed  with  the  thought  of  death,  that  oft  I  was  as  if 
I  was  on  the  ladder  with  a  rope  about  my  neck ;  only  this  was  some 
encouragement  to  me,  I  thought  I  might  now  have  an  opportunity 
to  speak  my  last  words  unto  a  multitude,  which  I  thought  would 
come  to  see  me  die  ;  and,  thought  I,  if  it  must  be  so,  if  God  will 
but  convert  one  soul  by  my  last  words,  I  shall  not  count  my  life 
thrown  away  nor  lost. 

But  yet,  all  the  things  of  God  were  kept  out  of  my  sight,  and 
still  the  tempter  followed  me  with.  But  whither  must  you  go  when 
you  die?  what  will  become  of  you  ?  where  will  you  be  found  in  another 
world  ?  what  evidence  have  you  for  heaven  and  glory,  and  an  in- 
heritance among  them  that  are  sanctified?  Thus  was  I  tossed  for 
many  weeks,  and  knew  not  what  to  do  ;  at  last,  this  consideration 
fell  with  weight  upon  me,  That  it  was  for  the  word  and  way  to  God 
that  I  was  in  this  condition  ;  wherefore,  I  was  engaged  not  to  flinch 
a  hair's  breadth  from  it.  I  thought,  also,  that  God  might  choose 
whether  he  would  give  me  comfort  now,  or  at  the  hour  of  death  ; 
but  I  might  not,  therefore,  choose  whether  I  would  hold  my  profes- 
sion or  no.  I  was  bound,  but  he  was  free  ;  yea,  it  was  my  dut)'  to 
stand  to  his  word,  whether  he  would  ever  look  upon  me  or  save  me 
at  the  last;  wherefore,  thought  I,  save  the  point  being  thus  I  am  for 
going  on,  and  venturing  my  eternal  state  with  Christ,  whether  I  have 
comfort  here  or  no ;  if  God  doth  not  come  in,  thought  I,  I  will  leap 
off  the  ladder,  even  blindfold  into  eternity,  sink  or  sw^m,  come 
heaven,  come  hell.  Lord  Jesus,  if  thou  wilt  catch  me,  do  ;  if  not  I 
will  venture  for  thy  name. 


Life  of  Bunyan.  539 

I  was  no  longer  fix-ed  with  this  resolution,  but  this  word  dropped 
upon  me,  **  Doth  Job  serve  God  for  naught  ?"  As  if  the  accuser  had 
said,  Lord,  Job  is  no  upright  man  ;  he  serves  thee  for  by-respects  ; 
"  Hast  thou  not  made  a  hedge  about  him  ?"  etc.  "  But  put  forth  now 
thine  hand,  and  touch  all  that  he  hath,  and  he  will  curse  thee  to  thy 
face."  How  now!  thought  I,  is  this  the  sign  of  an  upright  soul,  to 
desire  to  serve  God  when  all  is  taken  from  him  ?  Is  he  a  godly  man 
that  will  serve  God  for  nothing,  rather  than  give  out  ?  Blessed  be 
God  ;  then  I  hope  I  have  an  upright  heart,  for  I  am  resolved  (God 
giving  me  the  strength)  never  to  deny  my  profession,  though  I  had 
nothing  at  all  for  my  pains;  and  as  I  was  thus  considering,  that  Scrip- 
ture was  set  before  me,  Psalm  44:  12,  etc.  Now  was  my  heart  full 
of  comfort,  for  I  hoped  it  was  sincere.  I  would  not  have  been  without 
this  trial  for  much  ;  I  am  comforted  every  time  I  think  of  it,  and  I  hope 
I  shall  bless  God  forever  for  the  teaching  I  have  had  by  it.  Many 
more  of  the  dealings  of  God  towards  me  I  might  relate  ;  but  these, 
out  of  the  spoils  won  in  battle,  have  I  dedicated  to  maintain  the  house 
ol  the  Lord  (i  Chron.  26:  27). 

JOHN  BUNYAN. 


@J^e  (^oncPui^lon, 


1.  Of  all  the  temptations  that  ever  I  met  with  in  my  life,  to 
question  the  being  of  God  and  the  truth  of  his  Gospel  is  the  worst, 
and  the  worst  to  be  borne.  When  this  temptation  comes,  it  takes 
away  my  girdle  from  me  andremoveth  the  foundation  from  under  me. 
Oh  !  I  have  often  thought  of  that  word  :  "  Have  your  loins  girt  about 
you  with  truth;"  and  of  that,  "When  the  foundations  are  destroyed, 
what  can  the  riohteous  do  ?" 

2.  Sometimes,  when,  after  sin  committed,  I  have  loooked  for 
sore  chastisement  from  the  hand  of  God,  the  very  next  that  I  have 
had  from  him  hath  been  the  discovery  of  his  grace.  Sometimes,  when 
I  have  been  comforted,  I  have  called  myself  a  fool  for  my  so  sinking 
under  trouble.     And  then,  again,  when  I  have  been  cast  down,  I 


640  Life  of  Bunyan. 

thouglit  I  was  not  wise  to  give  such  way  to  comfort;  with  such  strength 
and  weight  hath  both  these  been  upon  me. 

3.  I  have  wondered  much  at  this  one  thing,  that  though  God  doth 
visit  my  soul  with  never  so  blessed  a  discovery  of  himself,  yet  I  have 
found  again,  that  such  hours  have  attended  me  afterwards,  that  I  have 
been  in  my  spirit  so  filled  with  darkness,  that  I  could  not  so  much  as 
once  conceive  what  that  God  and  that  comfort  was,  with  which  I  have 

jbeen  refreshed. 

4.  1  have  sometimes  seen  more  in  a  line  of  the  Bible  than  I  could 
well  tell  how  to  stand  under;  and  yet  at  another  time  the  whole  Bible 
hath  been  to  me  as  a  dry  stick  ;  or  rather,  my  heart  hath  been  so  dead 
and  dry  unto  it,  that  I  could  not  conceive  the  least  dram  of  refresh- 
ment, though  I  have  looked  it  all  over. 

5.  Of  all  fears  they  are  best  that  are  made  by  the  blood  of  Christ; 
and  of  all  joy,  that  is  the  sweetest  that  is  mixed  with  the  mourning 
over  Christ.  Oh  !  it  is  a  goodly  thing  to  be  on  our  knees,  with  Christ 
in  our  arms,  before  God;  I  hope  I  know  something  of  these  things. 

6.  I  find  to  this  day  seven  abominations  in  my  heart,  i.  Inclin- 
ing to  unbelief.  2.  Suddenly  to  forget  the  love  and  mercy  that  Christ 
manifesteth.  3.  A  leaning  to  the  works  of  the  law.  4.  Wanderings 
and  coldness  in  prayer.  5.  To  forget  to  watch  for  what  I  pray  for. 
6.  Apt  to  murmur  because  I  have  no  more,  and  yet  ready  to  abuse 
what  I  have.  7.  I  can  do  none  of  those  things  which  God  commands 
me,  but  corruptions  will  thrust  in  themselves.  "When  I  would  do 
good,  evil  is  present  with  me." 

7.  These  things  I  continually  see  and  feel,  and  am  afflicted  and 
oppressed  with;  yet  the  wisdom  of  God  doth  order  them  for  my 
good.  I.  They  make  me  abhor  myself.  2.  They  keep  me  from 
trusting  my  heart.  3.  They  convince  me  of  the  insufficiency  of  all 
inherent  righteousness.  4,  They  show  me  the  necessity  of  flying 
to  Jesus.  5.  They  press  me  to  pray  unto  God.  6.  They  show  me 
the  need  I  have  to  watch  and  be  sober.      7.  And  provoke  me  to 

.'  pray  unto  God,  through  Christ,  to  help  me  and  carry  me  through 
this  Vorld, 


POSTSCRIPT. 


Bunyan's  liberation  from  prison  was  obtained  from  Charles  II 
by  Whitehead,  the  Quaker.  This  discovery  was  not  made  when  I 
published  his  Life  in  1839.  On  his  release,  he  soon  became  one  of 
the  most  popular  preachers  of  the  day,  and  was,  if  not  the  chaplain, 
"the  Teacher"  of  Sir  John  Shorter,  the  Mayor  of  London.— 
Southey  s  Life. 

But,  although  free  and  popular,  Bunyan  evidently  dreaded  every 
new  crisis  in  public  affairs.  He  had  reason  to  do  so.  Venner's 
conspiracy  had  increased  the  severity  of  his  first  six  years'  imprison- 
ment. On  the  occasion  of  the  fire  in  London,  he  was  thrown  into 
prison  again.  And  soon  after  James  II  came  to  the  throne  in  1685, 
Bunyan  conveyed  the  whole  of  his  property  to  his  wife,  by  a  singu- 
lar deed,  which  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  his  suspicions  of  James 
and  Jeffries,  and  by  his  horror  at  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantz.  The  asylum  which  the  refugees  found  in  England  did  not 
prove  to  him  that  he  was  safe.  No  wonder.  "  Kirke  and  his  lambs'' 
were  abroad,  and  the  Bedford  justices  still  in  power. 

It  was  under  these  suspicious  circumstances  that  he  divested 
himself  of  all  his  property,  in  order  to  save  his  family  from  want, 
should  he  again  be  made  a  victim.  These  coincidences  give  peculiar 
interest  to  the  deed  of  conveyance.  The  history  of  its  transmis- 
sion I  am  unable  to  give.  There  is,  however,  not  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  rests  upon  its  authenticity.  Bunyan's  own  signature  is  un- 
questionable. I  have  been  able  also  to  verify  that  by  the  instru- 
ment in  which  Ruffhead  conveyed  to  Bunyan  the  ground  on  which 
his  chapel  was  built.  The  original  is  now  indorsed  on  the  back 
thus  :  "  This  Will  is  left  by  indenture  hereunto  subscribed,  to  the 
Rev.  Samuel  Hillyard,  Minister  of  Bunyan's  Meeting,  to  be  pre- 
sented to  the  Trustees  of  the  said  Meeting,  to  be  held  by  them  in 
continuance.  Dated  this  26th  day  of  October,  1832.  Bedford. 
Witness,  A.  Brandram,  Secretary  of  the  British  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society ;  G.  P.  Livlus ;  J.  S.  Grimshaw,  Vicar  of  Biddenham." 
"  According  to  the  above  statement,  this  writing  of  John  Bunyan  f 
was  put  into  my  hand  at  the  death  of  Mrs.  Livlus,  and  It  is  my 
wish  that  it  should  be  attached  to  the  Church  Book.  Samuel  Hill- 
yard."     Witness,  Robert   Philip,  Author  of  the  Life  and  Times  of 

(541) 


542 


Life  of  Bunyan. 


Bunyan;  William  White,  Bookseller.  Bedford,  October  30th,  1838." 
Mrs.  Livius,  if  not  a  descendant,  was,  I  think,  in  some  way  related 
to  the  Bunyan  family. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  Deed  would  not  have  secured  the  entire 
property  to  Mrs.  Bunyan.  It  shows,  however,  Bunyan's  solicitude 
for  her  comfort  and  his  confidence  in  her  prudence.  And  his  Eliza- 
beth \vell  deserved  both ! 


BUNYAN  ON  HIS  LAST  ERRAND  OF  MERCY. 

Whatever  Bunyan  may  have  feared  when  he  thus  disposed  of 
ill  the  litde  property  he  had,  nothing  befel  him  under  James  II.  He 
published  "The  Pharisee  and  Publican  "  in  1685;  the  year  of  the 
king's  accession  ;  and  in  1698,  Charles  Doe  says,  "he  published  six 
Books  (being  the  time  of  King  James  IPs  Liberty  of  Conscience  ") 
This  appears  from  Doe's  List.  It  throws  also  much  light  upon  Bun- 
yan's death.     Such  labor  could  not  fail  to  sap  his  strength,  even  if 


Life  o/  Bunyan, 


543 


he  did  nothing  but  carry  the  six  books  through  the  press  ;  for  none 
of  chem  are  small,  except  the  last.  The  usual  account  of  Bunyan's 
death  is,  that  he  caught  cold,  whilst  returning  from  Reading  to  Lon- 
don on  liorseback.  Violent  fever  ensued,  and  after  an  illness  of  ten 
days,  he  resigned  his  spirit.  Now  all  this  is  as  true  as  it  is  brief;  but 
it  is  not  all  the  truth.  "He  was  seized  with  a  sweating  distemper," 
says  L)je,  "after  he  published  six  books;  which,  after  some  weeks 
going  about,  proved  his  death.  " — Doe  s  Circular.     This  fact  was  not 


BUNYAN'S  TOMB  IN  BUNHILL  FIELDS  CEMETERY. 

known  even  to  his  first  biographer.  The  sketch  in  the  British 
Museum  states,  that  taking  a  tedious  journey  in  a  slabby  rainy 
day,  and  returning  late  to  London,  he  was  entertained  by  one  Mr. 
Strudwirk,  a  grocer  on  Snow  Hill,  with  all  the  kind  endearments  ofa 
loving  friend,  but  soon  found  himself  indisposed  with  a  VinAoi shak- 
ing, as  it  were  an  ague,  which  increasing  to  a  kind  of  fever,  he  took 
to  his  bed,  where,  orrowino-  worse,  he  found  he  had  not  lone  to  last 
in  this  world,  and  therefore  prepared  himself  for  another,  towards 


544  Life  of  Bunyan. 

which  he  had  been  journeying-  as  a  Pilgrim  and  Stranger  upon  earth, 
the  prime  of  his  days.  " — P.  35. 

The  occasion  of  his  journey  to  Reading,  which  has  always  been 
called  "  a  labor  of  love  and  charity, "  will  now  be  more  interesting 
than  it  hitherto  has  been.  It  was  not  undertaken  by  a  man  in  health  ; 
but  by  an  overwrought  author,  sinking  under  "a  sweating  distemper, " 
Mr.  Ivimey's  account  of  Bunyan's  errand  being  the  best,  I  quote  it : 

"  The  last  act  of  his  life  was  a  labor  of  love  and  chanty.  A 
young  gentleman,  a  neighbor  of  Mr.  Bunyan,  falling  under  his  father's 
displeasure,  and  being  much  troubled  in  mind  on  that  account,  and 
also  from  hearing  it  was  his  father's  design  to  disinherit  him,  or  other- 
wise deprive  him  of  what  he  had  to  leave,  he  pitched  upon  Mr.  Bun- 
yan as  a  fit  man  to  make  way  for  his  submission,  and  prepare  his 
mind  to  receive  him  ;  which  he,  being  willing  to  undertake  any  good 
office,  readily  engaged  in,  and  went  to  Reading,  in  Berkshire,  for  that 
purpose.  There  he  so  successfully  accomplished  his  design,  by  using 
such  pressing  arguments  and  reason  against  anger  and  passion,  and 
also  for  love  and  reconciliation,  that  the  father's  heart  was  softened, 
and  his  bowels  yearned  over  his  son. 

"After  Mr.  Bunyan  had  disposed  everything  in  the  best  manner 
to  promote  an  accommodation,  as  he  returned  to  London  on  horse- 
back, he  was  overtaken  with  excessive  rains,  and  coming  to  his  lodg- 
ings extremely  wet,  he  fell  sick  of  a  violent  fever,  which  he  bore  with 
much  constancy  and  patience,  and  expressed  himself  as  if  he  wished 
nothing  more  than  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ,  considering  it  as 
a  gain,  and  life  only  a  tedious  delay  of  expected  felicity.  Finding  his 
strength  decay,  he  settled  his  worldly  affairs  as  well  as  the  shortness 
of  the  time  and  the  violence  of  the  disorder  would  permit ;  and  after 
an  illness  of  ten  days,  with  unshaken  confidence  he  resigned  his  soul 
on  the  3 1  St  of  August,  1688,  being  sixty  years  of  age,  into  the  hands 
of  his  most  merciful  Redeemer,  following  his  Pilgrim  from  the  City 
of  Destruction  to  the  New  Jerusalem,  his  better  part  having  been  all 
along  there  in  holy  contemplations,  pantings,  and  breathings  after  the 
hidden  manna  and  the  water  of  life.  "  His  tomb  is  in  Bunhill  Fields. 
His  cottage  at  Elstow,  although  somewhat  modernized,  is  substan- 
tially as  he  left  it.  His  chair,  jug,  Book  of  Martyrs,  Church  Book, 
and  some  other  relics,  are  carefully  preserved  at  his  chapel  in  Bed- 
ford;  and,  best  of  all,  his  catholic  spirit  also  is  preserved  there. 

ROBERT  PHILIP. 


©Ifte  "bifffe   p  if  grim. 


IN  a  large  old  house,  with  two  kind  aunts, 

The  little  Marian  dwelt ; 
And  a  happy  child  she  was,  I  ween. 

For  though  at  times  she  felt 
That  playmates  would  be  better  far 

Than  either  birds  or  flowers. 
Yet  her  kind  old  aunts,  and  story  books, 

Soothed  many  lonely  hours. 

Her  favorite  haunt,  in  the  summer-time. 

Was  a  large  old  apple-tree  ; 
And  oft  amid  the  boughs  she  sat. 

With  her  pet  book  on  her  knee. 
The  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  was  its  name, 

And  Marian  loved  it  much  ; 
It  is,  indeed,  a  glorious  book, 

There  are  not  many  such  ! 

She  read  it  in  her  little  bed. 

Beside  the  winter  fire. 
And  in  summer-time  in  the  apple-tree. 

As  though  she  would  never  tire. 

But,  unexplained,  'tis  just  the  book 

To  puzzle  the  young  brain  ; 
And  the  poor  child  had  no  kind  friend 

Its  meaning  to  explain. 

For  though  her  aunts  were  very  kind. 

They  were  not  overwise. 
And  only  said,  "  Don't  read  so,  child, 

I'm  sure  you'll  spoil  your  eyes." 

But  Marian  still  went  reading  on, 

And  visions  strange  and  wild 
Began  to  fill  the  little  head 

Of  the  lonely,  dreaming  child  ; 
For  she  thought  that  Christian  and  his  wife, 

And  all  their  children  too, 
Had  left  behind  their  pleasant  home, 

And  done  what  she  must  do. 


"  I'll  take  my  Bible,"  said  the  child, 

"  And  seek  the  road  to  heaven  ; 
I'll  try  to  find  the  Wicket-gate, 

And  hope  to  be  forgiven. 
I  wish  my  aunts  would  go  with  me. 

But  'tis  in  vain  to  ask  ; 
They  are  so  deaf  and  rather  lame, 

They'd  think  it  quite  a  task. 

No  !  I  must  go  alone,  I  see. 

So  I'll  not  let  them  know  ; 
Or,  like  poor  Christian's  friends,  they'll  say, 

'  My  dear,  you  must  not  go.' 
But  I  must  wait  till  some  grand  scheme 

Can  all  their  thoughts  engage  ; 
And  then  I'll  leave  my  pleasant  home, 

And  go  on  pilgrimage." 

She  had  not  waited  long,  before, 

One  fine  autumnal  day. 
She  saw  the  large  old  coach  arrive, 

To  take  her  aunts  away. 
"  We  are  going  out  to  spend  the  day," 

The  two  old  ladies  said  ; 
"  We  mean  to  visit  Mrs.  Blair — 

Poor  soul !  — she's  ill  in  bed. 

"  But,  Marian,  you  must  stay  at  home, 

For  the  lady's  ill,  you  see; 
You  can  have  your  dinner,  if  you  like, 

In  the  large  old  apple-tree, 
And  play  in  the  garden  all  the  day. 

Quite  happy  and  content." 
A  few  more  parting  words  were  said. 

And  off  the  ladies  went. 

The  servants,  too,  were  all  engaged ; 

"The  day  is  come  at  last," 
Said  Marian,  "  but  oh,  I  wish. 

My  pilgrimage  was  past." 
She  knelt  beside  the  apple-tree, 

And  for  God's  assistance  prayed ; 
Then,  with  her  basket  in  her  hand, 

Forth  tripped  the  little  \naid. 


35 


(546) 


546 


The  PUgfim's  Progress. 


Behind  the  house  where  Marian  dwelt, 

Far  oft  in  the  distance,  lay 
A  high  steep  hill,  which  the  sun  at  morn 

Tinged  with  its  earliest  ray. 
"  Difficulty  "  was  its  rightful  name, 

The  child  had  often  thought ; 
Towards  th.is  hill  she  turned  her  steps, 

With  hopeful  visions  fraught. 

The  flowers  seemed  to  welcome  her, 

'  Twas  a  lovely  autumn  morn, 
The  little  lark  sang  merrily, 

Above  the  waving  corn. 
"Ah,  little  lark,  you  sing,"  said  she, 

"  On  your  early  pilgrimage  ; 
I,  too,  will  sing,  for  pleasant  thoughts 

Should  now  my  mind  engage." 


In  clear,  sweet  strains  she  sang  a  hymn, 

And  tripped  lightly  on  her  way ; 
Until  a  pool  of  soft  thick  mud 

Across  her  pathway  lay. 

"  This  is   the    Slough  of  Despond,"  she 
cried. 

But  she  bravely  ventured  through  ; 
And  safely  reached  the  other  side, 

But  she  lost  one  little  shoe. 


On  an  old  gray  stone  she  sat  her  down. 

To  eat  some  fruit  and  bread  ; 
Then  took  her  little  Bible  out. 

And  a  cheering  psalm  she  read. 
Then  with  fresh  hope  she  journeyed  on, 

For  many  miles  away  ; 
And  she  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 

Before  the  close  of  day. 

She  -:lambered  up  the  steep  ascent. 
Though  faint  and  weary  too  ; 

But  firmly  did  our  Marian  keep 
Her  purpose  still  in  view. 

"  I'm  glad,  at  least,  the  arbor's  past," 

Said  the  httle  tired  soul ; 
"I'm  sure  I  should  have  sat  me  down. 

And  lost  my  httle  roll !" 
On  the  high  hill-top  she  stands  at  last. 

And  our  weary  Pilgrim  sees 
A  porter's  lodge,  of  ample  size, 

Half  hid  by  sheltering  trees. 


She  clapped  her  hands  with  joy,  and  cried, 

"  Oh,  there's  the  Wicket-gate, 
And  I  must  seek  admittance  there, 

Before  it  is  too  late." 
Gently  she  knocks — 'tis  answered  soon, 

And  at  the  open  door 
Stands  a  tall,  stout  man — poor  Marian  felt 

As  she  had  never  felt  before. 

With  tearful  eyes,  and  trembling  hand. 

Flushed  cheek,  and  anxious  brow. 
She  said,  "  I  hope  you're  Watchful,  Sir, 

I  want  Discretion  now." 
"  Oh  yes,  I'm  watchful,"  said  the  man, 

"  As  a  porter  ought  to  be  ; 
I  s'pose  you've  lost  your  way,  young  Miss, 

You've  lost  your  shoe,  I  see. 

"Missus,"  he  cried  to  his  wife  within, 

"  Here's  a  child  here,  at  the  door. 
You'll  never  see  such  a  one  again. 

If  you  live  to  be  fourscore. 
She  wants  discretion,  so  she  says, 

Indeed  I  think  'tis  true; 
But  I  know  some  who  want  it  more, 

Who  will  not  own  they  do. 

"  Go  to  the  Hall,"  his  wife  replies, 

"  And  take  the  child  with  you. 
The  ladies  there  are  all  so  wise, 

They'll  soon  know  what  to  do." 
The  man  complied,  and  led  the  child 

Through  many  a  flowery  glade ; 
"  Is  that  the  Palace  Beautiful  ?" 

The  little  Pilgrim  said — 

"  There,  to  the  left,  among  the  trees  ? 

Why,  Miss,  'tis  mighty  grand ; 
Call  it  a  palace,  if  you  please, 

'Tis  the  finest  in  the  land. 
Now  we  be  come  to  the  fine  old  porch, 

And  this  is  the  Marble  Hall ; 
Here,  little  lady,  you  must  stay. 

While  I  the  servants  call." 

Tired  and  sad  he  left  the  child, 
But  he  quickly  re-appeared, 

And  with  him  the  lady  of  the  house- 
Poor  Marian's  heart  was  cheered. 

"  Sweet  little  girl,"  the  lady  said. 
In  accents  soft  and  kind, 

"  I'm  sure  you  sadly  want  some  resti 
And  rest  you  soon  shall  find." 


The  Little  Pilgrim. 


547 


To  a  room  where  three  young  ladies  sat 

The  child  was  quickly  led  ; 
"Piety,  Prudence  and  Charity," 

To  herself  she  softly  said. 
**  What  is  your  name,  my  little  dear  ? " 

Said  the  eldest  of  the  three. 
Whom  Marian,  in  her  secret  thought, 

Had  christened  Piety. 

"We'll  send  a  servant  to  your  friends, 

How  uneasy  they  must  be  !  " 
Admiringly  she  watched  the  child, 

Who,  indeed,  was  fair  to  see ; 
Around  her  bright  and  lovely  face 

Fell  waves  of  auburn  hair. 
As  modestly  she  told  her  name. 

With  whom  she  lived  and  where. 

"  How  did  you  lose  your  way,  my  love  ?  " 

She  gently  raised  her  head, 
"  I  do  not  think  I've  lost  my  way," 

The  little  Pilgrim  said. 
"  This  is  the  Palace  Beautiful, 

May  I  stay  here  to-night?" 
They  smiled  and  said,  "  We're  glad  our  house 

Finds  favor  in  your  sight : 

"  Yes,  gladly  will  we  keep  you  here, 

For  many  nights  to  come." 
"  Thank  you,"  said  Marian,  "but  I  soon 

Must  seek  my  heavenly  home. 
The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death 

Is  near  this  house,  I  know  " — 
She  stopped,  for  she  saw,  with  great  surprise. 

Their  tears  began  to  flow. 

She  little  thought  the  mourning  dress. 

Which  all  the  ladies  wore. 
Was  for  one  whom  they  had  dearly  loved, 

And  should  see  on  earth  no  more. 
Their  brother  had  been  called  away. 

Their  brightest  and  their  best ; 
No  wonder,  then,  that  Marian's  words 

Roused  grief  in  every  breast. 

Sobs  only  for  a  while  were  heard ; 

At  length  the  ladies  said, 
"  My  love,  you  have  reminded  us 

Of  our  loved  and  early  dead  ; 
But  this  you  could  not  know,  my  dear. 

And  it  indeed  is  true ; 
We  are  all  near  to  Death's  dar'-  '^oor. 

Even  little  girls  like  you." 


"Yes,"  said  the  timid,  trembling  child, 

"  I  know  it  must  be  so  ; 
But,  ma'am,  I  hope  that  Piety 

May  be  with  me  when  I  go. 
And  will  you  show  me  your  armor. 

When  you  have  time  to  spare  ? 
I  hope  you  have  some  small  enou^ 

For  a  little  girl  to  wear." 

No  more  she  said,  for  Piety, 

As  Marian  called  her,  cast 
Her  arms  around  the  Pilgrim's  neck, 

The  secret's  out  at  last. 
"  You  puzzled  all,"  said  Piety ; 

"  But  now,  I  see,  you've  read 
A  glorious  book,  which,  unexplained. 

Has  turned  your  little  head. 

"  Oh,  dearly,  when  I  was  a  child, 

I  loved  that  Pilgrim  Tale  ; 
But  then  mamma  explained  it  well — 

And  if  we  can  prevail 
On  your  kind  aunts  to  let  you  stay 

Some  time  with  us,  my  dear. 
You  shall  read  that  book  with  my  mamma. 

And  she  will  make  it  clear.  " 

Now  we'll  return  to  Marian's  home, 

And  see  what's  passing  there. 
The  servants  all  had  company, 

And  a  merry  group  they  were. 
They  had  not  missed  our  Pilgrim  long. 

For  they  knew  she  oft  would  play 
In  that  old  garden,  with  a  book, 

The  whole  of  the  livelong  day. 

"  Betty,"  at  last,  said  the  housekeeper, 

"  Where  can  Miss  Marian  be  ? 
Her  dinner  was  in  the  basket  packed. 

But,  sure,  she'll  come  into  tea  !  " 
They  sought  her  here,  they  sought  her  there. 

But  they  could  not  find  the  child  ; 
And  her  poor  old  aunts,  when  they    came 
home. 

With  grief  were  almost  wild. 

The  coachman  and  the  footman,  too. 

In  different  ways  were  sent  ; 
But  none  thought  of  the  narrow  way 

In  which  the  Pilgrim  went. 
"  Perhaps  she  followed  us  to  town,  " 

Poor  Aunt  Rebecca  said, 
"  I  wish  we  had  not  left  our  home; 

I  fear  the  child  is  dead.  '" 


648 


The  Pilgrim  s  Progi'ess. 


And  to  the  town  the  ccichman  went, 

For  they  knew  not  what  to  do ; 
And  night  drew  on,  when  a  country  boy 

Brought  Marian's  httle  shoe. 
With    the   shoe   in   her   hand,    the    house- 
keeper 

Into  the  parlor  ran, 
"Oh,  Mistress,  here  is  all  that's  left 

Of  poor  Miss  Marian. 

It  was  found  sticking  in  the  mud, 

Just  above  Harlem  Chase  ; 
I  fear  the  poor  child's  perished  there, 

For  'tis  a  frightful  place.  " 
Then  louder  grew  the  ladies'  grief; 

But  soon  their  hearts  were  cheered, 
When  a  footman  grand,  with  a  note   in  his 
hand. 

From  the  distant  Hall  appeared. 

Aunt  Ruth  now  read  the  note,  and  cried, 

"  O  sister,  all  is  well  ! 
The  child  is  safe  at  Brookland  Hall, 

With  Lady  Arundel, 
Who  wants  to  keep  her  for  a  month  ; 

Why,  yes ;  I  think  she  may — 
Such  friends  as  Lady  Arundel 

Are  not  met  with  every  day. 

"  Our  compliments  and  thanks  to  her. 

When  you  return,  young  man  ; 
We'll  call  to-morrow  at  the  Hall, 

And  see  Miss  Marian." 
Then  came  a  burst  of  grateful  joy. 

That  could  not  be  suppressed, 
And,  with  thankful  hearts  and  many  tears, 

The  ladies  went  to  res!. 


We'll  take  a  peep  at  our  Marian  now. 

There  in  her  bed  lies  she  ; 
How  blissful  were  her  dreams  that  night, 

In  the  arms  of  Piety. 
Oh,  that  happy  month  at  Brookland  Hall, 

How  soon  it  passed  away  ! 
Cheerful  and  good  were  Marian's  friends. 

And  who  so  kind  as  they  ? 

And,  more  than  all,  while  there  she  stayed, 

They  did  their  best  to  bring 
The  httle  lamb  to  that  blest  fold 

Where  reigns  the  Shepherd  King. 
For  many  a  lesson  ne'er  forgot. 

The  little  Marian  learned  ; 
And  a  thoughtful  and  a  happier  child 

She  to  her  home  returned. 

Years  rolled  away,  the  scene  has  changed; 

A  wife  and  mother  now, 
Marian  has  found  the  Wicket-gate — 

She  and  her  children  too. 
And  oh  !  how  sweet  it  is  to  see 

This  little   Pilgrim  band, 
As  on  towards  their  heavenly  home, 

They  travel  hand  in  hand. 
When  cloudy  days  fall  to  their  lot. 

They  see  a  light  afar, 
The  light  that  shone  on  Bethlehem's  plain. 

The  Pilgrim's  guiding  star. 

And  now,  dear  children,  whosoe'er 

Or  wheresoe'er  you  be, 
Who  ponder  o'er  this  strange,  true  tale 

Of  Marian's  history,— 
If  to  the  flowers  of  your  young  hearts,. 

Instruction's  dews  are  given, 
Oh  !  be  earnest  as  our  Marian  was. 

To  find  the  road  to  Heaven. 


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14  DAY  USE 

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